Turning and Burning
by Tigerdust
Summary: Xander leaves Anya at the alter. Only, the danger is just beginning. Veers dramatically into AU from there. X/A slash. Welcome home.
1. Chapter 1

_I'd appreciate your going even more_

_I mean, you must have lots of better things to do_

Xander tried not to watch as the hall filled with various manner of Harris clan, various demons of good and not so good. He tried not to hear the music of violins. He tried not to feel a damn thing except the happiness he supposed should have been invading his system. She was lovely; Xander was sure of it. Anya was lovely.

_You know, we'll both of us be losing our identities._

He had spent his last night of freedom watching Spike get pissed on various shades of alcoholic blood. Xander hadn't wanted to know where Spike had acquired it. Xander hadn't many male friends and abhorred, that's a big word for him to use to, that's how you know it's important, absolutely abhorred the idea of a bachelor party. He hated objectifying anything. Nothing was that simple. Between that and the sex, Xander could only think that might be the reason she loved him and was marrying him that day.

_Look you know I adore you all._

His father had came, flask secured, Xander was sure. Waiting for that moment where the screw-up would occur. And naturally the screw-up did occur. Xander didn't want that future for her, doused in alcohol and anger. He was used to fear, the bitter feeling of running in his legs. It was frantic, the blinding pain. Would she forgive him? He wasn't sure. But she wasn't the first demon he'd pissed off, hopefully he would run and it would be the last. There would be hiding. There had to be hiding.

_Burn the shoes and boil the rice._

His running had fallen to a jog and then a walking pace. There had been no feeling of his feet touching asphalt or cement; a dazed realization as he walked past the Bronze and further into the aching cold of the more abandoned part of town. Not really seedy, hell the whole town reeked of seedy, but more just there. An emptiness, a rave pit, a secret identity. Xander Harris, the disappeared dreamer and Zeppo, the eclipsed prophetic son. Alexander Harris, the dirty and pained soul.

_But wouldn't it be funnier to go and watch a funeral?_

It struck him outside the door where he was. A quiet eagle lay across the side of the door, the eye slat held firmly in place. And his car was out front. The gruff voice asked for the password. He supplied the word griffin with inflected cruelty. The mask slipped into place.

Here was the darkness that lit his very core, the darkness no one spoke of. Whips, chains, leather, groans, grinding. His eyes greeted a few familiars, his backbones stiffening with the practice and age of his character. Xander Harris did not make mistakes here. His talons spread wide, his shirt released of its trappings. The dark wings spread across his back for all to see. Especially the Angel lying across the sofas, his dark laughter ceasing.

"You came." It wasn't anger, but a statement, almost an inquiry. Angel knew where he should have been. He sat up, leather pants sliding across a leather couch.

"This wasn't for you."

"That would imply flattery, wouldn't it?"

"You always did." Xander rested his head just briefly. "The decision is yours."

Someone handed the knife to Angel. Angel's eyes reached deep into Xander's core, crumbled and seeing a horizon without hope. Liam had been the same way. Liam was now dead. Only Angel remained.

"I don't want it to be like this."

"How do you want it to be?"

"It is just you and me." Xander didn't fight it, didn't have the strength anymore.

"The decision is yours."

Angel felt himself lower downwards, the knife slashing Xander's neck with ice, but without a cut or stain of blood. Xander groaned and shook a bit, Angel's body severely colder than the knife itself. His hands trickled past the belt loop and felt for Angel's cock. The twitching became a pulsing movement with Xander's wrist.

The fangs punctured delicately and Angel's tongue danced across Xander's neck, imprints and dots of blood moving down pecs, forming a slight pattern to be tasted later. The resolve that replaced the crumbled soul startled Angel. But what would he expect from Xander except trust? Only if it was trust in the decision.

Xander's mouth parted briefly as the draining continued, his body rising and Angel's lowering until they met in the stillness. The last breath was so crucial and delicate, the part Angelus couldn't have dreamed to savor.

The knife was plunged down into Angel's wrist and hovered above Xander's lips. The blood and the power of the Order of Aurelius mingled and awoke someone. Someone who preferred the name Eldridge. Someone who would not be getting married any day.

Creator's Note: A cliffhanger, a doorway, a possible AU? Should I continue? In any case, done for ttm prompt 94-danger zone. The song is from Company, various bits of "Not Getting Married Today"; a mixing of light humour and dark danger. I'm not Whedon, anything or anyone from Buffy, or Sondheim/Company (although I happen to have a passing fancy for JB). I'm just me. Coincedentally, I'm not getting married today either.


	2. Chapter 2

"Teach me."

The two words were simple and fluid, tinged with the darkness now inhabiting, or invading depending upon whom you asked, Xander's soul. Angel's eyes were a mixture of intrigue and pity. Xander would never be able to go back, although he had the feeling this was more than a last minute decision. But the intrigue factor still existed. He didn't flail like most fresh vampires; he accepted it in serenity. He was fiercely calm.

Xander slid up the arm of the couch, cool to the touch. Angel was used to his warmth, he shivered just momentarily. Angel watched his body being devoured by Xander's eyes and watched Xander feel himself without moving, beginning to understand his surroundings.

"Of course, if you won't teach me, I can always find out myself."

Xander whispered in a low, confident tone barely loud enough for Angel's vampiric hearing to channel. It was at that moment, he turned on his heel and flipped behind Angel. His usual clumsiness was replaced by graceful movements; he had already learned how to throw himself into vampiric speed with the twist of his heel. Liam as a fledgling had been a disgrace; Xander was frightening.

Angel could feel the fingertips grazing his pecs and turned his head ever so slightly. Xander was humming low and tracing each empty vein in Angel's body. Angel's eyes closed knowing that he'd have the power to just take from Xander; things that he wouldn't have healed from before. He didn't want to feel it, but oh god what Xander did to him.

"Not Xander. Eldridge."

"Is that the name of your demon?"

"It's the name of my dead twin."

Angel turned, games briefly destroyed between the two.

"I didn't tell you? The reason my father drinks so much is because my mother drank while she was pregnant with me. I'm a twin; my brother was stillborn."

"So, you're a fighter then?"

Xander smirked in that irrepressible way that made Angel wonder how much was still human within him. Angel could feel though, Xander was startlingly hungry. But he couldn't be sure if blood was what he was hungry for.

"Teach me, Angel. If not, I'll find the answers elsewhere."

So, he wants to learn then? First, he learns what all must learn. Angel's fist reeled backwards and knocked Xander flat into the wall, dust shaking from the rafters high above.

"The first thing you learn is that you are not a master here. This family line is one of the most revered and ruthless. You will never use your trademark insolence on us. You are mine Eldridge Harris. And you'll never forget that."

Xander smirked, the scent of fear clean from him. The last thing he remembered was Angel overshadowing him, the sound of nothing all around him.

Three sharp booms dropped into Xander's endless night, knocking him from his dreamless stupor. He missed dreams, some of the best parts of being human, he thought. Xander sat up, wearing nothing but a pair of striped boxers, one foot lazily resting against his knee. His sheets were unruffled, the contention of his demon noticeably present.

For the first time in his life, Xander did not feel anxious or nervous. He just was. With Anya now fully gone, he assumed seeing as how her side of the closet was empty, and hopefully out of some of his normal danger with his new status as Aurelius sire and heir, Xander smirked at his lack of reflection in the mirror.

He stopped as the booms began again, frowning as the daze began to lift. Who was he to compete with the weight of the world? It seemed to be crashing against his door. No word from him, the Scoobies were most likely alarmed but would probably not pry. Busy with their own lives and stress, he didn't blame them. But he didn't excuse it either. Something inside him had changed, something that demanded the respect and notice he hadn't been given. Something crueler than arrogance that humanity defined as pride reached the surface.

The only mortal to survive on the Hell mouth with the Slayer. How ironic this was all becoming. He reached for a pair of discarded jeans, drips of white pain covering the side of the left leg. He stopped momentarily as he delved into his drawer for a shirt. Attached to the mirror was a single card from his youth, a picture of an X-wing. He had always loved Star Wars and the idea of being strong, of being a Jedi. But what was he now?

The booms began again. He heard himself mutter. "Coming, Jesus Christ. What could be that important?"

He opened the door and there was his father, the stench of whiskey visible and the dirty shirt more than evidence of the troubled soul he had become. Cold hate began to infuse into Xander's pity for the man.

"So, my shill of a son has returned from his holiday, then?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it a holiday."

"What would you call it then, coward? You going to invite me in or are you too good for your dad, too?"

Xander snorted, not bothering to think of a witty comeback. He wished there was an invitation spell for family. He reckoned the ancients probably had the same problem, but just hadn't the spell. He'd ask Giles or Willow about it later. "Come in then."

"What are you going to do now?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?!"

"Did I misspeak?"

"You are so worthless. To think how you've besmirched the family name like that, running from your bride. You'll never get another chance."

Xander glared down at his father, perspiration appearing on his balding head. He had a desire, he realized, to pound his father against the wall by his forearm and give him the lashing he deserved. To his credit, he abstained at that moment.

**County road 233, under my feet  
Nothin' on this white rock but little ole me  
I've got two miles till, he makes bail  
And if I'm right we're headed straight for hell**

"Let's get one thing straight. I'm not the raging alcoholic who is the center of a family maelstrom out of how best not to have a family reunion. You are. Second,_ Tony_," Xander inflicted full force into his father's name, "nothing I've ever been could be half as bad as you. You have something to say? Say it then. I'm busy."

"Doing what?"

"Saving the world."

"You couldn't even save your math test, let alone the world. You, Alexander Harris...are..."

"My name is Eldridge."

Recognition, fear, pain, anger, countless emotions welled to fruition under the senior Harris' eyes. "You couldn't, you wouldn't."

"Why not Dad? Isn't he the one you really wanted? The star football player, the next president? I'm not him, I won't be. And I don't live by your standard."

"I have no son."

**I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun  
Wait by the door and light a cigarette  
If he wants a fight well now he's got one  
And he ain't seen me crazy yet**

Xander thought for only a second, fully aware of the enamel covering his fangs as his tongue caressed an itch in the back. Two scenes played through his mind. The first was of his mother the year he turned six. She sat two rooms away from him, lit by candles, chanting words from the Bible and praying for the souls of the family. The second was a present scene, one which Xander saw only in hindsight.

"Tell mom she was wrong."

Xander said this to the man bleeding slowly as he felt the long drywall nail dig deeper and deeper into his back as he struggled against Xander's arm and the plain wall, where a picture of Anya had once hung. The last thing Tony Harris saw was the rope from which he'd been hanging himself from years. A cold triumph filled Xander's eyes and then the realization hit.

**He slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll  
Don't that sound like a real man  
I'm going to show him what a little girls made of  
Gunpowder and lead**

He ran into the sunlight, letting it sting him briefly and then realizing that the sun was sinking. The scars remained visibly briefly on his cheeks. The same white shirt billowed around him as he looked at the mansion in the distance, the marbled exterior suddenly bringing a frightening anger to his cheeks.

He thought of the people he had fought against and how he was now one of them. And how he was coming to the end of a rapidly fraying rope. The same three booms smashed into the door of the mansion. Only this time, the door broke under Xander's hand, his fury imminent.

"Angel! Spike!"

"They're not here."

Xander's eyes met a man, no, a boy, of thirty from behind his large spectacles. He was slim and slightly homely, but his smile had a devious warmth to it, not obviously devoid of all humanity. He walked from the library, a book tucked under the arm of his Oxford-style tan jacket.

"Who are you?"

"Call me Casey. From the looks of things, you must be Eldridge. Master Angel has been quite smitten with you. I'm glad you've come to the family."

"We're related, then?"

"Quite."

"Then you must know where they've gone."

"You are in a keckle then, aren't you? Demon's gone and done something naughty?"

Xander squinted, not liking the implication of his lack of control. He walked swiftly, content on wiping the smirk, and spectacles, right from Casey's face. "It's been quite a long day. I don't need fancy words. I need Angel to tell me what the hell he's done to me."

"You've known all along."

Xander looked at Casey, neither betraying a hint of emotion. Well, that is before Xander knocked him flat back into the library.

**It's half past ten, another six pack in  
And I can feel the rumble like a cold black wind  
He pulls in the drive, the gravel flies  
He dont know what's waiting here this time**

Casey awoke in a large stone room, chained, chuckling once again about keckles.

"You and your fancy Oxford words, then? I took the liberty of looking that one up. Thank you." Xander nodded as Casey felt the heavy iron chains wrapped to his wrists and the manacles clawed together with him. "You know, Casey, the first kill is supposed to be the hardest. Surprisingly enough, I felt nothing for it. Is that what you meant, letting the demon have control? That's not funny you know. It's a very serious topic."

Casey strained against his own rapidly-fraying rope, realizing he'd be the next one hung . "We're brothers, Eldridge. You need to rethink this."

"Rethink this? You don't think this family has rules, do you? The rule is that the strong conquer the weak. Angelus knew this, as well as Angel, Spike, and the rest of our psychotic order. So what should make me any different?"

"Please..."

"You sure you understand the rules of this game, Casey, was it? I think we need to be a bit more clear." Casey gulped as Xander stopped from dramatic pause. "Now there are several ways, which I'm sure you know, that can aide in the death of a vampire."

**I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun  
Wait by the door and light a cigarette  
If he wants a fight well now he's got one  
And he ain't seen me crazy yet**

Xander walked past a table, briefly hidden from sight, various contents scattered all around, including his martini glass filled with blood. "Swallowing holy water. A stake. Sunlight. Even a good old-fashioned curse can do it. And then there are the less famous ways. But my favorite, of course, is the most to the, ahem, point."

Xander grabbed the stake and twirled it in his fingers. "You're going to tell me where they are. And then you are going to die for your insolence. Now all that's left to do is pick your own way of going."

Casey fought the urge to scream for one of the fledglings, for a servant, for someone. For a brief, brave moment he was winning. Xander stood in front of him as he broke, the screams pierced by a gentle caress and jab of the stake, not quite enough to kill him.

**He slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll  
Don't that sound like a real man  
I'm going to show him what a little girls made of  
Gunpowder and lead**

"Sunlight or stake, Casey?" Xander brought down his absent breath across Casey's cheek. "Where are they?"

"Spike's soul! They left for a flight from LA. Spike's going to see a shaman in Africa!"

"Very good. But what's the first answer?"

"Neither. I can't win either way, can I?"

**His fist is big but my gun's bigger  
He'll find out when I pull the trigger**

Xander kissed Casey. "Very good." As he left the room, Casey sighed, realizing he would die with daylight. That is, until Xander threw the stake from afar at his heart. "I was always impatient."

**I'm going to show him what a little girls made of  
Gunpowder and, Gunpowder and lead**

C/N: Song belong to Miranda Lambert (off her Crazy Ex-Girlfriend album) and her entourage. Of which I'm not a member, surprise, surprise.


	3. Chapter 3

Xander could get used to being a vampire. He could live like a human, but feel no guilt. He felt a surge of delirium and a surge of power as he began to watch the man behind the counter. Xander had left that boy's ashes to swirl in the light wind and to stain the dark stone walls of the torture room.

The man behind the counter was well into his thirties and heavy. Jakob had glasses that slid far down his nose. He was a man who had an aura about him of efficiency and yet a sadness. Maybe, Xander wondered, he felt as if he had wasted the life he'd been given. Xander shook off the nagging, small voice that told him about the sadness within the man. Xander didn't give a damn, or was trying not to at least.

"I don't think I can help you." The man smiled warmly at Xander. He had been touched as Xander had related the story of "his brother" and his troubles during the African ash spreading of "their father." He had even managed a few small tears and a heavy sigh, Academy award grade material. Xander had even almost fooled himself.

The vampire's lips turned down, saddened and pitying the man. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice told him this guy didn't deserve what was about to happen. Xander took a cosmic fly swatter to the voice. In a second, he was behind the man at the counter. Jakob quivered. He had heard about things like this happening all over LA, but he had always been sensible and careful. Jakob had never opened the door to a stranger's knock, had never given money to anyone. Jakob had never done anything out of fear. And now, as Xander's fangs slowly drained him, he wondered if doing something might have prevented this.

The man's blood reminded Xander faintly of A-1 Steak Sauce, for a reason that went beyond Xander. He was weak and slid to the floor quite easily. Xander relieved the man of his clothing, tightened the notches in the belt a few times and checked himself in the reflection of the darkened and ancient computer before heading towards the other end of the building.

It was dark and cloudy night, smoggy and with the smell of smoke in the Los Angeles air. Xander moved across the tarmac with accuracy under the night sky. He had commandeered a catering vehicle and was trailing a small parade of badly packaged food. As he rolled up to the docking bay, he slid through various checkpoints with ease.

Jakob had been a quiet and unknown individual. Most of the attendants in the workers lounge greeted him warmly, assuming he was new and just slightly out of place. He laughed with a couple of leggy fake blondes that reminded him of one of Willow's old Barbies and then the regret hit him just briefly. He thought of Willow and blinked. When asked about it, he attributed it neatly to allergies.

He could feel Charlie's eyes burning into the back of his head. He didn't need vampiric senses for that. Xander wasn't sure exactly how Charlie was feeling, but it was assuredly something mixed with lust. Charlie himself wasn't bad looking. He had short dark hair and a smooth grin. He was short but very trim. Xander grinned in spite of himself.

It didn't take long for the two to hit it off and Xander and Charlie ended up at a nearby bar, Charlie's flight delayed and on its way to being canceled.

"So, why an airline pilot?"

"For the same reason most people join the airlines. Travel the world, work odd hours, and keep family at bay."

"Interested in seeing the world, then?"

"Six countries to date. All relatively cheaper thanks to my job." Charlie made a fake toast to the airline with his Scotch. "And what about you Jakob, was it?"

"Yeah. Jakob Eldridge. Well, I've never been outside of LA that I can remember, except for a little out of the way town called Sunnydale. That's where I was born and raised. I figured one day I'd see the world, but then I just kind of got stuck."

"It's funny how LA does that to a person."

"It sure is."

"Well, Jakob, it's been a blast. But I should probably get back to my hotel and get some rest in case they call me."

"Need a ride? I'm not due back for the rest of the day."

Xander shifted his weight around and smiled with that same sly grin he had seen Angel use on Buffy all those times when they had first met and his eyes burned with anger at the older vampire. Charlie was relatively easy to seduce, it seemed. It didn't take long to have him disrobed and laying over the bed.

"You really want to feel me? You really want to see the world?"

"Yeah. Jakob. Want to see the world. Want to see you in me. Have to."

Lust rolled off him in waves, closer to sweat. Xander felt himself enter the man. Charlie proceeded to hiss and then became very comfortable. Xander groaned as Charlie reared back and they slammed together for a few minutes. Charlie popped up and Xander grabbed his cock, massaging.

"You're freezing, Jakob."

"Curious as to why? You wanna find out?"

"Do what you need to."

That was all the permission Xander needed. His hand moved from Charlie's cock across his chest and then his lips descended on the victim's neck. The twinge of fear and regret came and went, easier to dismiss each time. Xander kissed the neck and then rapidly stuck the fangs in. Charlie could hear the sound of Xander sucking his blood.

"You have to stop."

Xander moved his head away. "You want to see the world? This is your chance."

Xander wasn't sure if this would work, but with blood still fresh on his lips, he bit into his own wrist and slammed it into Charlie's mouth. Charlie succumbed to the temptation, the first beads of hunger and Xander felt the burn of the sire, childe connection being forged. Charlie came hard across Xander's four pack. Then "Jakob" watched with mild interest as Charlie began to flail and groan. Over the next two hours, his face and his feelings began to change.

"Master." That was the first word Charlie uttered and it sent a little shudder of power through Xander. "What do you require of me?"

"I need to go to Africa. And you will get me there. But first, a little training."


	4. Chapter 4

Shades, they fall in shades. The curtains of my emotion drop before me, tinkering to the floor. There is a silent whisper as the night swells around me. The clouds are thick and painful, swollen and moaning. Tints of vein yellow snake through the darkness. In a flash, I can see them.

I've traveled the barren part of this land looking for him, smelling him. I'm quite sure he can smell me, but why should I care? What did he expect? I feared when the plane took off. Not because of flight but because of the windows. But I was assured of the tint of the glass. I began to think of becoming a pilot. Accrue some money and life experience away from Sunny hell. Why did it take a demon for me to think of moving on?

Because I know how they will react. My credibility will be shot, the concern will be there and all of the misunderstanding. The things I've gone through fighting and now to become one of them. It's almost as if I'd written deceiver against my own forehead. But I don't care. Happiness is a transient emotion and for the man who never lived, it matters not. The problem is that Alex Harris did and that Eldridge Jacob Harris did not.

So, I stood outside as the darkness swelled. I remember the feeling of wanting to be sweating and of the heat crashing around me in waves, but I was unaware of it. There had been markers lining the path, torches brandishing an odd sort of smokiness. There had been whispers and stern warnings. I had told my first fledgling to return to the hotel and to wait for me. Somehow, foolishly, I believed I could separate who I was from who I was becoming. But those things can not be separated. Such are our times.

There were dead animals hanging like wind chimes from the rafters and jutting portions of the building. Part voodoo and part sanctuary for the spirit. Out of respect and out of cowardice, maybe two of the wisest emotions of self-preservation in man. I try to block out the noise, but I can't. I have no desire to try anymore. Because he is near.

I've been a jealous child, I'll admit, and it was one of the less savory traits that I wanted to trade over in adulthood, well, vampire hood I suppose. But there was Angel and there was Spike. Or maybe this was Liam and William. No, Liam was dead. This was Angel and William, before the bloodbaths and the rivalry. This was sire and childe. Xander's old mind fought for control, his self-respect fighting the urge to release the bile from his throat.

He hated Spike at that very moment. He hated Spike for all he meant to Angel and Xander knew then that he could not be that man for him. Xander thought of himself as an equal but Spike could acquiesce to the inevitability of the family order. So, through that, he'd always be more reliable and more devoted to Angel. While no one could accuse Xander of not having devotion, no Eldridge, not Xander, there was a wildness to his demon. Yes, there was a ferocity to his devotion but something frightening and deeper lay hidden there as well.

Xander hadn't felt much anger in his lifetime. He had been passive, hiding behind his words and his vague issues of self-esteem with Willow and Jesse. Buffy had forced him to half grow up and another larger part of himself was growing in the process now began. But here, before his eyes, was something.

There were no windows, just empty boxes of removed straw from the sides of the hut. Fires were all around the woman or very wrinkled man. Through her nose was a bone of some sort and her hair hung wildly around as she chanted and danced. The air was charged, the static vibrant. The storm was brewing. Physical reaction mingled with the spiritual just briefly and Xander felt sick again.

But he could not look away. He saw his sire through the fire. No, he thought, I see Angel through the fire. Angel held William. They were both naked, at least the parts Eldridge could see, and bathed in fire. The edge of a torch was set against them, playing a trick on Xander's mind. In reality, they were standing atop a pit of burning coals, but they themselves were not on fire.

Angel's left forearm moved around William's waist and his right forearm came down upon his chest, holding him in the subtle agony of the coals. Xander found himself shivering in spite of the heat. Angel found himself drawn to William's neck and to the area, the very sensitive area, where he had first bitten him. The area of the first bite never heals completely and both sire and childe can find that area very erotic during future blood games.

Angel's face pumped with demonic blood and he grinned towards the window, his eyes flicking up barely enough for Xander to know he was noticed. The first drink was very long and a small dribble fell between the crease of Angel's arm and Spike's stomach. Spike quivered but Angel held tight. There was a sound of clapping and a boom from a drum. The earth answered. The ground trembled. Lightning broke threw the roof of the thatched hut.

Xander stood as soon as he was able. He saw Angel holding Spike, but he saw William moving too fast through the small space. He saw different emotions, a parallel William that very few had ever seen. William did not utter a word, but he saw the pain and the regret come over the blond vampire's visage. Xander shuddered, hoping he'd never feel that sort of regret or guilt. But one day he would, he knew somewhere inside he'd pay a price.

The ceremony was complete as Angel bonded the two with a second drink and the pair fell away from the coals. Xander watched Angel as he laid William amongst a prepared bed of straw and intently soaked in the various phrases from the shaman or the priestess, whichever she was. Angel nodded several times and then made a few phrases of his own with his hands and various grunts, pointing to the door once. Eldridge concentrated on the foreign substance dribbling from Spike's heavy eyelids. William was crying.

"Why have you come?"

"Aren't we family, Angel? Did you think you could just pack up for a safari and not leave me worried?"

"I didn't think that was your choice to make." The pair walked along in silence, circling the hunt. Angel listened for William, if he would need him. The shaman had told the sire not to go far at all. The next set of days would be painful and crucial as the soul reacquainted itself with the body.

"You knew what you were getting when you turned me." There was no denial in his voice, just a resolution that stood.

"Xander." The use of his former name caused the younger to turn to the older. "I can't love you the same way I love him. William was always something different from what you are. We don't live by the same rules as the other families and I won't pretend like we do, either."

"I'm not asking for permission for this to be something it's not."

"But you are. Our bond is special. You'll always be jealous of William. It will hang over your head that he's seen me in ways you'll never see me and he'll be jealous for what you've seen, even if he won't admit it."

"Tell me about the ritual."

"The first bite is much like the initial contact of sire and childe, reinforcing the bond. The second bite forces the soul to be bound like a three-fold cord. One back inside the body, the demon and soul will war for four days, each part of the cubic ceremony to come. That is why we are here, far from America and far from where warring factions could harm him. Why are you here?"

"To find you."

"Why are you here?"

"Because I couldn't bear the thought of being away from you. And I hate that."

Angel smiled. "You always will. Here, my sire was never much for tenderness, but I can do some better than she."

Angel's thumbs found the area where the initial bite occurred on Eldridge's neck. Xander felt Liam mumble something under his breath about youth and learning, but he chose not to question it. Angel was right, always alarmingly right. The sensuality of the touch caused Eldridge's face to change, pumped with his own demonic blood. Angel grinned as he traced the path with the side of one fang and Xander groaned. There was a tree behind them and Xander grabbed it, leaning backwards with Angel's body pressed to his own.

Angel's cock stirred as Xander's hands slid down his body, his crying and defenseless body that shook with need. His fangs bit brusquely and Xander moved with the suction, remembering that moment where he saw William in Angel's arms. He groaned again and found his arms anchoring Angel closer to him.

Angel heard William a split second before Xander did and then Angel left in a flash, back into the warmth and security of the tent. Xander stood breathless for a moment or two. He felt cold resolve filling the place lust had currently held. Eldridge felt anger, an absolved sense of pride. He hadn't told Angel about the pilot, about his first childe. If Angel was any indication at all, maybe it was for the best that he held unconventional relationships inside his growing family.

Eldridge took one last glance, envisioning Angel leaning close to William and wiping away his tears. He shook his head, bangs sweeping against his forehead. He made a plan and left, retracing his steps back to Sunnydale. He had a crime scene to clean up after.


	5. Chapter 5

I must be thirsty. I must be angry. These are the thoughts that haunt my mind. These are the only thoughts that haunt me now. Because I don't think; I don't care to. I don't cry because there is no point.

He stopped following me as I turned the key. I don't know how he did it, but I felt him, his eyes burning. Every inch of that dusty road while he burned against my skin in the dead of night. Nevermore, I think. Nevermore. I must be thirsty.

Fingers clutch my hair and run through. I suppose it must be misting because I don't sweat anymore. I can't sweat. Those aren't tears I am crying. That red puffiness it just doesn't exist. I won't think on it. I'll go back to Sunnydale. I'll go back to the Scoobies.

_And another hundred people just got off of the train._

"Master?"

"Come to me, Charlie."

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

"No."

I grab him, demonic hand on forearm and throw him towards the one creaky bed amidst a swarm of valiant, yet stupid, mosquitoes. My lips bruise his. I try to feel through the pain I can inflict. My fingers dig into his flesh, into his cold back.

"Hurts."

"It's supposed to hurt." I stop for a second to take a breath. Wait. Never mind. I suppose I just stop for a second.

_And the ones who stay find each other by the rusty fountains in the guarded parks. _

He is mine a second later, face down on the bed. Every inch of my tongue counting and leaping upon every absent crook and every last breath in his spine. I can feel them twitching in my head. The hate in my fangs pouring into him like a sieve.

"I was a good servant, Jakob. What is wrong?"

"You must never know."

His back nuzzles into the touch of my chest and my hand moves around his body in various directions. He smells of shampoo, cleaned for me. Touched only by me. With only me. Forever mine.

_And they meet at parties of friends of friends who they never know._

I don't have the strength to eject my sexuality deep into him. We spend time wrestling and huffing away at each other, biting parts off of each other's stagnant souls. And yet, there is nothing. I cannot inject all my pain. Some of it is mine alone to bear.

"The sun is rising."

"Have I hurt you?"

"Only when you aren't here."

"Good Charlie. You've learnt well."

_And another hundred people just got off at the train, and the bus, and the plane maybe yesterday._

It feels cold in front of the Summers house, unnatural somehow. Like all of the hope and some strange barrier that she has has left us all. I shiver. I shouldn't shiver, but there we have it. I walk slowly up the drive, pretending to exhale. My fingers move through my hair in nervous response. I ring the doorbell. The lights are dim. No one answers.

"Jakob?"

My eyes pop open as I sit in the chair next to Charlie. The book I'm reading has slid down past my lap and is currently traveling down my knee. I rescue it from my toes just in time to pluck the last sentence from demise. His hands are clamping my arm, not in the way that I had with him a mere day ago. His is a gesture of trust, mine of destruction. What is happening to me?

"You should probably know my real name."

"That would be nice."

"Eldridge."

Charlie just smiles at me and then turns back to piloting. "You were tired."

"I expect I'll be very tired these next few days. I have business in Sunnydale."

"I will come with you, of course."

"I suppose you must." Every synapse was telling me to keep him in Los Angeles, but I couldn't listen to myself anymore. My head was full.

I dozed again, trying to read the book. I opened the door this time and out beyond it lay a prairie. It was midday and yet I did not burn. She was there.

"Who are you?"

"Grey Knight. The prophecy has come."

"That voice, your voice."

"Do you recognize it?"

"Should I?"

"You would not now."

"Look, whatever you have to tell me, then just tell me and cut all the cryptic bullshit. It fails to entice me."

Across the shimmering heat, she approached. Her hair and skin were dark. She stood before Eldridge, nearly naked, save for strategically placed fur. Her stance was low to the ground.

"I'll ask again. Who are you?"

"The Slayer."

"I'm sorry. You must have missed the memo. Buffy is the Slayer."

"For a short while yet, the Death Slayer shall continue and the Dark slayer shall not rise again. Grey Knight must be warned."

"Who is this Grey Knight?"

"You are."

"But I'm a vampire. There are rules, aren't there?"

She shook her head. "Not for you. For your soul was tarnished, but remains purely covered. You act out of instinct. You are part of the Order but are not. You are the anomaly, the Key's shield, and the Moon."

"This is all well and good I suppose if you're into doomsday prophecy, and Lord knows I've gotten enough of those, but what in the bloody hell of all creation does any of this have to do with me?!"

"I've told you."

"Care to explain yourself."

"They give me no time. Just do not return, Keep yourself safe."

"Do not return to where? I have to go back to them. They're my life. Okay, well, my death I suppose."

"She will glory in your destruction."

"Buffy would never do that."

"Do not return. This is your warning."

"Tell me what they've done."

"You will protect her. You will protect all three of them."

"Who?"

"The Death Slayer, The Red Witch, and the Key."

"The Key? Who is the Key?"

"Under the Slayer's protection. Hidden from Glory."

"I'm not afraid."

"You will be."

"Eldridge. We're approaching descent. You'd best wake up."

Xander nodded grumpily. Great. Another prophecy of doom. That's all he needed now.


	6. Chapter 6

"God has nothing to do with it. God is dead."

"You can't just say that!" Giles' hand pounded the kitchen table. Xander jumped at the emotion that Giles quickly reigned in again. "I mean, after everything you thought about Angel."

"I was a kid back then. Hell, G-Man, weren't we all? But think about it. I've got a chance. I've got a future."

"Justify this all you want, but if you hurt the girls..."

"I'd never hurt them. How could you even imply that?"

"You've opened up a can of worms that no one can control."

"Just don't tell them. Not yet."

"You can't hide it for long."

"I know." Xander sighed. Charlie entered as if on cue. He moved swiftly, slightly brushing against Xander's arms. He looked at Giles as he opened the fridge door and removed a frosted gauntlet.

"Are you on of Angel's?"

"The name is Charlie. And am I one of Angel's what?"

"You know, Charlie. One of the childes." Xander hid the stress under his voice, beneath his teeth.

"Oh yes. Well that. I won't interrupt you gentlemen any longer. But, if I may, the ladies in the parlor are getting a bit anxious as to where you've gone."

"Thanks Charlie."

"Don't mention it."

"Xander, you didn't."

"So what if I did? And don't call me Xander. That's the old me. That's the Zeppo, the one who makes mistakes."

"We all make mistakes. That's why we came here looking for you. Angel told us you were subletting the mansion while he got his affairs in order in LA. Good Lord, Xander, you sent the man to hell!"

"He was a vampire then." Xander didn't correct him on the reasons behind his action. At the time, the wise watcher had agreed with him, although not motive wise. Truthfully, Giles thought someone who saw things in such terms was a danger, a fanatic in some ways. His opinion of the boy had been shifting. Now he wasn't sure what to think.

"And what would you do now if you could fix it?"

"Oh no. We're not going through that line of reasoning."

"I'm afraid we may have to. If you've named..."

"Named what? Xander, where did you go?" Willow walked in casually, cocked her head at Xander and then smiled as he picked up Giles' tea mug.

"Xander was just telling me about the puppy he got in LA."

"Fun! You'd best have Angel bring it down every once in awhile. I'm not sure he could take care of a puppy very long." She smiled warmly and then moved back to confirm to Buffy that Giles and Xander had been talking. Giles had always been very good for Xander and she was happy they were being civil.

"Don't make me lie for you forever."

"I won't, Giles. Once I have everything figure out..."

"But you've chosen this. Don't regret it."

"It wouldn't matter if I did. I belong to the Order now. There is some responsibility there. It'll be good for me."

"I hope you're right. I sincerely hope you know what you're doing."

"Don't worry about me Giles." He flashed a goofy grin that caused the Watcher to sigh and grapple with cleaning his glasses for a moment. "I'm Xander Harris, King of the Cretins. Everything will be fine."

He had gone back one last time to see it. The old apartment lay at the end of the hallway. The white didn't seem as bright as it had before. Old wasn't an adjective Xander would have used in the time when he'd been with Anya. She had loved the place and all it stood for. She had babbled about humanity and babies and television for hours on end. Xander had just watched her nose wrinkle as she talked and tried to steer the conversation towards sex on their newly-rented couch and in their newly-tiled kitchen. He had used the term christening.

Xander had gone back alone, sending Charlie along to the mansion. He had a place there. He had already decided that he'd be the head of the Order until Angel returned, with Spike. Technically, he paced himself in his mind, he'd be the head representative. But the mark of Angel was good enough for most on the Hellmouth, including the Slayer.

As he made his way toward the door his mouth went dry at the thought of Buffy and Willow. They had left him alone all this time. Not a message, not a locating spell, nothing. They were bound to be worried or worse, give him the silent treatment. He dreaded the coldness, but in some way welcomed it. To find his own place on this impenatrable rock of evil, he concluded, might not be so bad. I must be getting older if badass is starting to look like an option. He wondered how he'd look in an eyepatch as Snake Plissken next Halloween.

Xander smirked as he felt the chunky click of his old key in the door. It still worked. A musty smell greeted our dark hero as he crossed the threshhold, barely noticing the place where his father had fallen into the nail. Well, at least, according to the coroners report. Xander had a convincing argument once he'd shown the autopsy head his bruises over a divey dinner. He wouldn't mention the sex, although he'd call on that person again. They had a bit of an overactive imagination.

The place was barren and clean. Everything had been boxed up. The scent of orchids and lilles hung in the air. The classic scents of the Slayer and her two witch companions. And a third scent. But the first two were enough for Xander. They had always been, well, slightly overwhelming. He didn't cry but stoicly took account of each room, dreading the day when he asked where everything was stored. He'd have to be invited, no doubt, but it was that third scent he dreaded. As he passed the place where his X-wing used to hang, notice the dust, he shuddered ever so slightly.

The pulse of the ground felt good beneath his feet as he marched forth in the night. No longer the court jester for Queen Buffy, he stepped slower and raised his cheekbones against the invisible cold. As a vampire, he could sense the power eminating from certain points, beckoning him. The hellmouth was inviting him into its sensuality and the only thought that kept him from giving in was of his girls. To be on the side they were not was unthinkable. Sure, he had a new code of conduct, but he'd never hurt his girls. At least, Xander sighed, he never wanted to make that choice.

The door to the mansion swung open and he was assaulted with their scent. He was able to mask his vampiric face in the split second he saw Buffy's leg waiting for him in the parlour. There was jumping and babbling, smiles and painfully concealed questions all around. The girls didn't ask and Xander didn't offer any excuses. He thought of his childe, somewhere in the mansion. He was worried, but knew he couldn't hide forever. This one night would be enough. He had ducked into the kitchen, excusing himself with hunger. That's how the conversation had begun with Giles, who had been waiting for him.


	7. Chapter 7

There's nothing like coming home to a clean house, Xander thought. His steps were purposed as his heels fell lightly in rhythm with the echoing cool marble of the downstairs landing.

"Charlie! We're going to have company tonight!" He called in a raucous manner, his hands cupped to his lips, his fangs grinning greedily. Charlie seemed to float to the banister, observing Xander in a state of positive glee.

"What is so special about this company?" He smiled, playing along.

Xander rubbed his hands together. "Oh, you shall see. I have a very special event planned. But first I need something from Angel's old room."

This idea in his mind had evolved ever since thinking of calling the small chapter of the Order together. The Order was the oldest, the largest, the best run order of all the vampires. Tanaka demons served them well, except for at the Hell mouth. Tanaka demons were too efficient and cruel to be allowed near a hell mouth. No sense in having an uprising.

Membership was rumored to be on the rise. Angel and Spike had nearly god-like status all along the western seaboard. The east remembered hints of Liam and William. Most of the Order had fled to Canada after a certain incident involving several luxury liners and a skyscraper that Xander was sure wasn't even possible from a normal demonic standard. He'd ask Angel when he returned.

For a moment, his face fell. He noticed, as he studied himself with his fingers, that wrinkles formed beneath his eyes. They weren't the happy creases he remembered. Joviality was the price he paid and now it seemed to mock him. An invisible breeze moved through the mansion, reminding Xander of that night, that forbidden night. He had sat at this very table and there had been candles. He shook himself as the wind caressed the back of his neck.

It was a gift not to see yourself when you woke at two in the afternoon screaming silently, pleading for an ending to your own invented rotting luck. But Xander was nothing if resilient, he supposed. Especially after spending four hours going through old reels at the library to acquaint himself with various older faces in the town, often who had prodigies in the Order. There was an involved elaborate ceremony for tonight, several parts of which required his famous resiliency.

First would come the posturing.

Then the denial and the rage would follow.

Bargaining and lessons enacted would be remembered.

Finally, sweet surrender.

The King of Cretins was moving up in death. Damn it if he wasn't ready. Xander's fist pounded the table in mock rage as he lifted himself gently, practicing the way his feet and arms moved in Spike's old wheelchair. It had been ages ago that Spike had been bound to this chair. The wheels whined beneath him, the chair befitting rebellion to its very core. All this will be worth it, Xander muttered as he rolled forth, teeth chattering and grimacing all the while.

There were twenty spectators gathered about, Charlie swooping around and refilling champagne goblets through the clusters of assembled guests. Guests, however, in the loosest sense of the term. The lost reflections of men gleamed against the wheelchair as Xander silently rolled by. Their gazed shifted in his direction, one or two at a time. It was a silent gaze, cold and guessing. Xander rolled himself in the library, trying to suppress his chuckle at the assortment of severe beatnik and jock combinations that had infiltrated the ranks of the Order. It's time to take control back from your guilt vacation Angel love, Xander thought. He couldn't suppress the bitter laughter anymore and a quiet bark escaped his lips.

"Gentlemen," he wheeled towards the crowd and spoke firmly with quiet disdain for most, "and I use that term loosely, welcome to Angel's mansion. Most of you, I venture to guess, have never set foot in this house. That is an oversight we correct as of tonight. Of course, I do notice quite a few missing. That is regrettable. As they will find out."

"You know every person in this little consortium, then?" A pale man wearing a suit with slicked hair took the measure of Xander dubiously.

"I'd be a fool not too. Which is why I am aware, Mr. Dalthers, that you are here. Curiosity got the best of you?"

"You haven't killed Angelus have you?"

"And why would I do a thing like that?"

"That beloved soul of his." Dalthers sneered through his angular nose and Xander gripped the wheels tighter.

"Of course, you do have a point." Xander wheeled around the rouges gallery once for effect. "The management does seem to be shot all to hell since the delivery of said soul. Maybe we should complain to the owner of the company." A few nervous laughs echoed, hovering in the hall, near the doorway.

"By this time tomorrow, they'll be dead, won't they?"

"Wisdom and curiosity are two things I value. Just not too much wisdom and curiosity. You will learn this in time." Xander rolled forward, as though he wished to converse with Mr. Dalthers knee. "There are a lot of things you will learn in time."

Mr. Dalthers moved back a bit uncomfortably, aware that there was something not quite natural about Xander in a wheelchair. Xander made a mental note about the head banker at the First National and signaled a blink to Charlie, who disappeared deftly and made a short list of appointments with Mr. Dalthers name at the top. He commuted between Sunnydale, Oakland, and various smaller communities running banks. But somehow, Xander and Charlie were both sure, he'd find time for the Order. Even at the apocalypse, people still wanted to make sure money was safe. Come hell or high water.

Xander threatened a chuckle in his voice which became a low growl as a thick-necked, crew cut reject from the Devil's Own spoke up. "And just why should we trust you? You used to be that nerdy kid at school I almost punted around if it hadn't have been for Cordelia."

Xander spun quickly towards his knee, making sure most were in optimal range. "Quite right, Butch. Oh, surprised I know your name? You shouldn't be. But you do raise a good question. Why should you trust me? Why should you assume I know how to take care of you? How is Eldridge any better at running things then Angel? In some cases, I'm not. But trust me on one little thing..."

Xander jumped from the chair in a flash, faster almost than Charlie could return from finishing his note. The dagger was in his hand, Xander's eyes flashing as he held Butch against it, leaning on the stairs for support. His visage had changed and he snarled very low. "Guess you shouldn't be tempted to believe everything you see. Now say goodnight Butch." The slice was very clean. The dust scattering in the wind across the floor was not.

Xander stood at the top of the steps, his secret exposed. "That is reason number one you should trust me. Now, you have any problems, gossip, can't get food? Well, don't come god-damned running to me for every little thing. You're a vampire, start acting like one. Yes, I still side with the Slayer. But don't be stupid."

Xander waltzed about the stunned crowd as he continued, stopping at a goatee laden beatnik who seemed to be leaning against a painting for support. "What do you think Elvin?"

Elvin tried forming one word and then another until he gave up and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. "I think you'll teach us."

"Correct. You win a prize. Only one lashing for speaking out of turn. Charlie?" Charlie was behind the surprised man, dragging him into a back room to be tied and waiting for Xander. "Any other thoughts?"

"Let me be clear on a couple of things." Xander leaped towards the top of the stairs, asserting himself and billowing out his chest with a couple of hand flourishes for style. "One is that this is not a new day, this is just a little house cleaning for Angel while he's in Los Angeles beginning a new chapter. This is your only warning. This is your only chance. Seven sharp next week, same day. Every member of the order from the lowliest new fledge to whomever your brain denotes as the highest ranking peon in the pantheon will be here. Or you will pay the price."

He savored the words with glee as he thought of the very cute goatee vampire waiting for him in very heavy rope or leather. He'd let Charlie decide that. "Meeting adjourned."


	8. Chapter 8

There was the sound of jazz music coming from the kitchen when Xander arrived back from the Scooby meeting. He had gone with a half-formed plan in his mind. Something about Buffy had been distracted at this last one. While walking home, a practice now made prominently safer, he counted the number of times she had been distracted while doing her duties. He had almost removed his shoes and socks to count that high.

Sure, the witty banter was great. Even though it was just a cover for nervousness and the inexperience of youth. Sure, it was nice to be the food guy again. Even if that meant nothing had changed in the hierarchical system of things. And sure, it was nice being with girls who softened the harshness of his new life. Even if he hadn't told them yet. Xander missed being able to bounce ideas off of Oz. As he opened the door, he wondered how much effort it would take down to track the young, philosophical werewolf.

It was odd to hear music in the mansion. There were very few times, no need to take off socks and shoes this time, that Angel had played some very classical pieces. Xander was surprised at this. As artistic as William was and as sensitive as Angel was said to have been in his past life, he had assumed that maybe there could have been more music. Not that he would have appreciated it. No, it took death to appreciate those things in life he never slowed himself to learn because he thought they were beneath him.

It was a strange urge that came upon him in the parlor. His nose twitched briefly as the dust raised from the record player. It had amazed Xander when Spike had given him that look. He had visited once with Buffy and commented that they could have had a really nice sound system installed if they had wanted it. Spike had just muttered and shook his head. But looking through the collection of records, vast and eclectic as it was, Xander tilted his head and took in a bit of knowledge.

Carmen, Aida, The Barber of Seville. The titles rang in his head, some bringing to mind an old cartoon or two. The jacket cover with the word Carmen had a rose scrawled across the lettering. A proverb came to mind from a time when he had gone to Sunday school many years ago. There's nothing new under the sun, Xander muttered under his own breath. It was true. Maybe it was time he started appreciating history before it came back to bite him. After all, he was apart of it now and determined to mold it somewhat in his image. This was the time to learn, before the storm truly began.

As Louie Armstrong began to wail about seeing Dolly, Xander entered the kitchen and just watched. Charlie's back was to him, his shoulders moving in rhythm. Something was steaming on the stove and a pot nearby was bubbling. Xander could smell Parmesan in the air and it made his stomach tingle. That was the unfair thing about being dead. He might have been able to shrug the girls off, but seeing his old friends jelly and doughnut at the shop had almost been too much.

"What are you doing?" Charlie turned with a bit of noodle hanging from his jaw. The fork in his hand moved closer to it and gently pushed it in. "You are going to make yourself sick."

"I know that. But you have to test them somehow. My senses aren't as dead as the rest of me."

"But we don't eat normal food anymore. The system can't handle it."

"I know that. But a good hostess must have something ready for his guests. Even if that means something that's just for show."

Xander moved towards the stove and watched the little bubbles break on the creamy Alfredo sauce.

"It's a pity."

"Do you think Elvin would like some?"

Charlie's hand went to his hip, where a kitchen towel lay tucked into his belt. Xander scratched his tongue against his left fang. It was a nervous habit that he had picked up.

"It's not time yet."

"The meeting is tomorrow night Xander."

"He's almost ready."

"I must have been that easy to seduce."

"You weren't a vampire."

"I can't imagine how he is resisting you."

"He's not. Not really. There is a bit of hesitancy. He probably thinks I'm mad."

"Well, I'd most likely feel that way if I'd seen you cut down a stupid former jock of a vampire. After all, it's not as if our numbers are healthy or anything. We only seem to breed scum."

"That's something I intend to fix. Have you gotten hold of Dalthers?"

"He's scheduled the conference for noon over Angel's old private line. He sincerely believes in what you are doing, even if he doesn't necessarily approve of your methods."

"How could you tell?"

"Between the pauses I could feel certain waves of hesitancy and other emotions of that nature. I think he misses Angel, but he'll gladly take someone like you."

"That's encouraging. Maybe one of the books in the library could help. Angel must have some reference for intuition."

"That's what I thought. I've reserved all morning trying to find something about it in that disorganized system of his."

Xander turned towards the kitchen island and pressed his palms on the marble surface. "Have I told you how amazing you've been?"

Charlie moved closer, inches away. "Not recently."

Xander would have breathed deeply if he'd been able to. As it was, they locked eyes for just a moment before Charlie moved in. Xander's scent drove him crazy, as is to be expected of a childe. Xander's hand moved forward, towards the back of the neck. He rubbed with the back of his thumb until he reached the spot where he had marked Charlie for eternity.

"Be careful to start what you can't finish."

"Who says I don't want to?"

"Pasta's on the stove." Charlie barely muttered it. His eyes were moving in a dream-like state.

"So? Turn it off."

"It isn't me you want."

Xander's hand fell. "Should that matter?"

"It matters very much to me. I'm your companion and your childe, but it's not me you want. I'll never ask for it and probably never deserve it. But don't try and seduce me Eldridge. That's not fair to either of us."

"What are you saying?"

"I believe in what you want to do and I think you're the man to do it. Hell, we could probably have amazing sex from this to the next century and never be bored. But I still believe in honesty and seeing things as they are. You're more attracted to Elvin than you are to me. But I'm okay with that. You needed an assistant."

"But..."

"Don't begrudge me that. I have no use for rebellion and even less use for flattery. You are right that you are showing me the world. There's so much to learn and do. A part of me is always yours, Eldridge."

Xander smirked. "You'd best be careful, kid. Someone as smart as you could end up tipping the scales."

"You're right. Aren't you glad I'm on your side?"

"I'd best say hi to Elvin."

"Mm... ask him if he'd like some pasta."

Xander chuckled as he headed through the back entrance of the kitchen and up the stairs to the guest rooms. Memories came flooding back. He saw every angle of the room, knew every corner and how every tapestry blew in the wind. He knew how the lamp casted shadows during certain moments. Xander bit his lip. It was a mistake, a drastic mistake choosing this room for Elvin. But regret was not something he needed right now.

"Yes?" Xander blinked at the doorway. A captive man wearing nothing but heavy rope across his midsection, arms, and thighs did not usually do so with the nonchalance of reading a book. But Elvin was different. His body had been refined from becoming a vampire. Time was, the way he told it, he had never been fit nor extremely fat. As a vampire, he was built and extremely sensitive to touch. He could move with the best of them and twist in ways that Xander didn't think about, lest he had to stop and take care of himself.

"We'd best get you a nice shave before the meeting tomorrow night. We think we'll have Dalthers by then."

"You haven't told him the plan?"

"Think I should?"

"Just hint at it. He probably wants to play." There was a dramatic lean upon that last word and Xander swore he saw Elvin lick his lips. He entered the room, moving slowly to a spot between the bed and the end table.

"You know, for someone in captivity, you don't seem very captive."

"We should probably get me a nice set of clothes for the meeting."

Xander smirked, looking towards the pile of baggy artistic clothes that he'd shown up in at the last meeting. Xander's fingers moved, walking their way slowly from his slightly hairy midsection towards the thick rope binding his arms.

"Changing the subject?"

"To fit my needs."

"Are you in much pain?"

"Do you want me to be?"

The question was loaded, Xander could tell. A blind man being hit by an ice cream truck would have been more subtle.

"What's changed? You believe in me now?"

"I can be persuaded."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Enunciating so freely."

"Why? Does that do something for you?"

"I'm going to do something for you." Xander's eyes lowered, fixed on the other.

"Prove it."

Xander lowered himself on to the bed. Elvin was an intriguing creation. His fingers could move with deft swiftness, sensing those areas that made you most aware of his presence. Those fingers that molded clay and held brushes were so close to his knee. But Xander was only aware of Elvin's dangerous smile, knowing exactly how naughty he was. Damn it! Xander wished he had been the one to turn Elvin.

Xander leaned in, Elvin's goatee tickling his chin. The feeling of his cool lips sent shivers and response through Xander's body. He wanted to untie Elvin so badly and let the painter move his arms around. The urge presented itself and Xander felt himself obeying. His lips and fangs moved, tracing the absent lines of blood all around the neck and down to the cheekbone.

"No."

"You don't want to be free?"

"Not yet." Elvin was almost gasping for breath.

"What do you want, then?"

"To be a part of your glory."

"You got it, kid."

Xander moved across Elvin. The cool body of the trapped man felt perfect beneath Xander. His cock was so hard and painful beneath his zipper. It took all of Xander's self-control not to just rip his clothes off and let Elvin ride him until they both groaned and panted to explosion.

His hands gripped Elvin's rope at the arms. Xander lifted himself using the ropes. He felt Elvin's face transform as his collarbone began moving against captured lips. There was a rip that began at Xander's first button and lasted until the shirt was gone.

"Oops."

"I didn't much care for this shirt anyways."

Xander tossed the split shirt into the pile of the artist's old clothing. That was always Elvin's favorite part, the disrobing. There was something enticing and new each time to see. Xander, however, did like his black Dockers and so felt his hands moving swiftly and tossing them aside.

"So, Eldridge likes those pants?"

"Shut up."

"Vanity shall be our undoing."

"Going to go all cryptic on me now?"

"Only afterwards."

Elvin's cock twitched in the general direction of Xander's ass. He felt himself moving towards it and farther from Elvin's mouth. As his body lowered and his feet dangled near Elvin's hands, he shuddered. Those fingers intertwined with his toes. The two bodies moving and lifting in concert. There was a little give on the rope. Not much, but just enough so that Xander knew Elvin was enjoying this. If the closed eyes and smile wasn't enough of an indication.

Elvin's eyes fluttered open when he heard the third groan. Xander was stroking himself while Elvin was pumping and priming thoroughly and they were both about to expel copious amounts of stress, among other things.

"Ready and aim."

Xander obeyed, moving forward just slightly.

"Fire."

Xander groaned as he felt something cool move into his ass and his own cum flutter and spill all across Elvin's chest and face. Elvin licked his lips as Xander fell back.

"So predictable. Best not to get too much more like that. People might begin wondering who's on top."

"Oh shut up."

"Make me."


	9. Chapter 9

There was a candle in the window. He remembered this during sleep. The glow had been soft, cascading down from the frosted tips of the glass and onto his old pram in the midst of the nursery. The slight chill of the air was smothered by a soft blanket, light blue with little yellow duckies. There was a voice singing softly and rocking him back and forth. He could register the creaking of the chair and her.

She sang an old song, a song of victory. His namesake Alexander had been a conqueror. She sang it as a hymn as he clung to her breast. She hadn't known him well before she died. He had been coming upon his sixth birthday when Grand matron LaVelle had passed. Xander hadn't cried for her but many had. Her hair had been long and wavy, dark ringlets cascading past her ample bosom. And that song always rang through his mind.

Xander Harris, former court jester for the Queen of the Scoobies. Alexander LaVelle Harris, screw up son of the town drunk spiraling down his father's path. Eldridge, leader of the Order of Aurelius until Angel returned to his senses and duty. He was none of these and yet all of these at the same time. What would she think of him now? Of his strength or the sense of duty she tried to instill in him at such a young age in lieu of his grandfather?

So he tossed and he turned as he thought of her. Xander awoke with his shoulders tensed against his bed and his feet dangling from the overhead lamp in the master suite. He was keeping Angel's bed cold for him. He'd be there and wait there, never staying with Elvin, who had made the mansion his permanent residence in the room that had once been reserved for Xander.

Xander stumbled his way to the marble bathroom after softly touching back to the ground. He could sense that he was falling into shambles. How could he allow all this to happen? How could he lead these things that he had vowed to protect the world from? What had he done, whom had he offended? Alexander LaVelle Harris was from a long line of good and benevolent French rulers. And yet he was not them either.

His eyes caught his absent reflection in the dripping tap. His claws grasped upon the marble and he allowed each droplet to move across his finger as he dipped each into the basin. There was no reflection he wanted to see in either case. It made him sick, this loneliness and absurdity. It was despair and folly. To protect, to lead, to serve. That was not Xander Harris. Histories and occasions piled upon him and yet he had failed them all. Would he always fail them all?

Xander was becoming stronger each day. He read until his eyes burned. He trained with swords and weapons until his biceps rebelled against him and his knees went weak with sweat. He was Eldridge some nights and Xander other nights with the girls. Angel would have known what to tell him, but Angel was conquered by his own destiny. Was this the path Xander should have taken? He might never know.

There was a knock on the door that interrupted his thoughts. The seeping darkness engulfing his soul sucked itself inward long enough for Xander to straighten himself out. Outside the door stood Charlie, silently waiting.

"What is it?"

"You're awake. I brought you some blood with herbal sedative, warmed just slightly."

Xander opened the door and studied Charlie. "You've stayed."

"I wouldn't leave. Even to expand my mind I wouldn't leave."

"But you can't expand your body here either."

"Who says?"

Xander's eyes narrowed. "Have you been..."

"No. I haven't allowed anyone entrance here. I'm not a fool, Eldridge. But I have had time to meditate and time to learn about myself and about you."

"My dreams. Damn."

"I wouldn't pry if you'd let me teach you, but they are so strong."

"I don't mess with spells. I'm cursed with bad results."

"Could you be doing it to yourself?" Charlie pushed the cup skillfully through the opening of the door and onto Xander's bare chest. "Sleep well, sire. At least, while you can."

Xander stood at the doorway as Charlie walked off. It was painful seeing him almost. Xander felt like he was chained somehow, an entwined destiny as doomed as it could be. He shook off the feeling as he looked into the blood. Charlie did have a point. Was it possible that he was jinxing himself? Thinking on such negative terms must affect some spells, if not all. Was all the attraction to danger and evil a beacon he sent? Heaven forbid, Xander thought. That's one thing I don't need. Not tonight.

Xander had done his best learning about vampyre ritual from the remnants of shredded pages Angelus had left in the old fireplace of the library. But they were in difficult languages and harder to master without others to assist you. He took a sip from the cup and allowed himself to feel the blood pumping through his absent veins. Chalices, prayers, other esoteric rituals that meant almost nothing and yet everything. It was fear and lore and all those things which he abhorred, that which subjugated the mind. What would Angel do?

_You can't ask yourself that_. It was a voice in his mind, gentle and kind. He turned in the empty hallway but there was no one there. _You must do what is right._ Was it her again? Xander yawned. The herbal sedative was working.

There was a lot of darkness in the rituals. Xander sat in Angel's old chair at the head of the stairs. He had moved the infamous piece of furniture for both show and function. A couple of nearly-dilapidated books hung close to the end of the table next to it. The smell of silver polish was in the air, marking Charlie's business for the moment. The grandfather clock chimed forth with an ominous four. Xander watched the movement of the brass piece as it swung. Tonight would change the balance of power in the Order. He wasn't comfortable undermining Angel like this, but he could barely stomach Cordelia's voice on the other end of Angel's Investigations. He had called three times and heard her voice twice.

The air seemed to still as seven approached. It was a delicate hour, far from midnight and either end of the sun's deadly kiss. The armchair throne had been moved once more to the top of the staircase. Xander wished he could conjure an image of himself in the blank space where a mirror once hung in Angel's bathroom. He moved into the hallway at a nearly frantic clip and was greeted on the stairwell by Elvin. Charlie looked up from the bottom of the banister, the greenish hue in his eyes flashing just briefly.

"You cleaned up nicely." Xander nodded at Elvin.

"It helps when it's not your money. Did you get confirmation from Dalthers?"

"He promised to be here and bring along the appropriate associates."

"So they'll all be here then?" His eyebrow quirked and a small piece of caramel and brown bang moved against his eyebrow.

Xander's tongue reached for that sensitive area just behind his left fang. "If everything goes according to plan."

"Just to be clear, what is the plan exactly?"

"Oh no you don't. Just play your part Elvin. Angel's money looks very tempting on you."

"You like it?" Elvin's arms raised as Xander appreciated the suit. "I always thought green was a good power color for me."

And it was. His black silk shirt was off-set well by his dark green tie and his darker green blazer. Black slacks and a small gold belt buckle complimented his classic Oxfords. Charlie didn't react to the appraisal of the outfit. He just watched Xander and Elvin, gripping the banister a bit tighter the closer the pair moved toward each other. Charlie was glad when there was a knock on the door.

Xander's face gave a characteristically goofy grin. "Places everyone!"

Charlie drifted toward the door and Elvin took a place on the right side of the banister. Xander's legs swung over the left arm of the chair just as the first guests arrived. It was a powerful image, Xander lounging at the top of the pristine white stair. It was an artistic sculpture of power and manhood. His gaze passed over the small knot of four that entered. For the next five minutes, drinks were poured as more guests filed in. Xander remained silent and indifferent as the nervous din began to cascade over the parlour and the library.

Ten minutes passed and Xander was seriously beginning to think he should have just hung a banner that read Aurelius Con 98. Even if that was the wrong year it did have a nice ring to it. He hadn't touched his goblet of blood resting in between his fingers and Elvin hadn't yet flinched, reclining amusedly against the banister. After the fifty fourth guest had passed the door at seven fifteen precisely, Xander's claws clinked delicately against his glass.

Charlie echoed the sentiment by slamming the front door. "If they are not already here, then they are late and will be punished. And I will know if they are not here." Xander's words echoed down the stairs and drifted through the ears of each guest. A few shuddered. Word of what had happened to Butch had gotten around. The few that weren't grateful for Butch's death certainly cowered in fear of Eldridge, who had gone from mysterious geek to leader of the Order.

Elvin followed closely behind as Xander greeted each guest, some by name. Mr. Dalthers could barely contain his amusement at Xander's showmanship. But already being warned of the proceedings to come, he played along. The only sounds of laughter were Xander's and the rest of the guests waited in dreadful silence.

"Why hello ladies." Xander reached down to the hand of a pale blond waif wearing a slimming auburn cocktail dress. "My, I didn't know the Order had such comely ladies available to its disposal."

"Why, Mr. Eldridge, we are honored by your invitation. My name is Amber. These are my sisters Melanie and Victoria." They were carbon copies of each other and Xander was sure he wouldn't have gotten the time of day from them if he were anyone else. Melanie wore a purple dress with black lacing that matched her sister's shoes and Victoria wore a beige dress that matched the other's tiny beaded purse.

"The pleasure is all mine." Xander winked instead of throwing up, which was quite a feat for him tonight. His grand matron would have said that there was so much horse manure in the air that you could have produced tomatoes the size of your head with it. And she would have been right. But watching Buffy send a mandate to the Watchers council had taught him how to react to groups. And right now he was tightly in control of this one.

"Mr. Eldridge is happy to announce that the formal meeting shall take place in half an hour in the dining hall. Feel free to mingle with him until then when all shall be revealed." Charlie moved towards the kitchen silently and Xander smiled mercilessly as the girls tried to corner his attention for the rest of the night. Too bad they were the greatest point of interest in the new crop. Xander hoped that there was untapped potential. He saw no reason for so many bad seeds to be poisoning the Order.

A small gong retrieved and borrowed from the Sunnydale museum of history hissed a greeting at the precise time and Xander lead a procession into the dining room. The large table had been converted to a chalice alter. The scent of sandalwood and lavender lay around the dark candles, which were a small variety of white, red, and purples. The shadows leapt violently with the invisible wind. There were no places with which to sit and each guest's face was enhanced by the darkness.

"Many of you do not know this ritual. But this is the binding ritual of our Order. It is an ancient custom, lost after many years of war and strife. I have recovered the Chalice of Destrome thanks to a mutual friend of the Order and I plan to reinstate the hierarchy that Angel and Spike have frittered away in previous years of glory and disdain." There was a communal shudder. The few survivors from the tortures of Darla, Drusilla, Angelus, and William the Bloody preferred the past to remain dead. Truth be told, they liked weaklings so that their fears would never come to realization again. Xander himself was a man set to confront and twist them for his purposes.

"One of my mortal ancestors was Alexander the Great. He was a model of war and a model of prosperity. He was a leader and a gentleman." Xander's absent reflection glared from the silver punchbowl bearing a variety of winged flourishes. "I plan to bear his memory gladly. You do have a choice tonight. But you will regret the wrong one. You should know, in all fairness, that this is not one of those choices. This is demanded of you. This is the Order. Come and prick your finger and fill your cup. Let the strength flow through us."

"What about the blood of Angelus and the others? Should it not be in there as well?" There was a panic in the stocky man's voice as it shot up. Xander thought that he might have had to jump to get that much air into his diaphragm.

"They have done this ritual before. Once your blood enters the bowl, it never quite leaves. Anyone else?"

There was silence in the air as each fledgling and sire gaped at each other. Xander bowed then and nodded his head towards Charlie. Xander's claws bit deep into a jagged wing and his own blood flowed into the cauldron, the only reflection of the the candles. There was a small hiss that escaped from his lips as a reaction to the cut. But Charlie was there with a fresh towel and a reassuring smile. "My servant and several associates have all taken this oath with me. Take it now or leave. You will not be returning and you will not make it very far." His tone was not argumentative or very loud.

The sincerity of the clap that followed startled Elvin. An older gentlemen who Charlie diagnosed as "greasy" moved forward and began to stroke the chalice. "The older ones were worried." The words hissed from his non-existent lips. "But I believe you will bring us into the new age foretold of in this time. Even someone associated with the Slayer." His hand bit upon the jagged wing across from Xander and the murmuring began again. The man gained Xander's ire, which was his intention.

"Fine. Let us settle this now. Yes, I am in league with the Slayer. She is only the enemy of those not under my protection. From this moment on we will learn to understand and cooperate with each other. We do not live in an age of darkness and even she learns that right and wrong is not as simple as councils and demons. Even she learns this and more. And so shall we all. Walk out now and face her without me." Xander glared and the crowd shrank back. The man with no lips glared at having lost.

The came in pairs, some believing the chalice to be made of poison. But the room was soon full of white towels briefly spotted with blood before the wounds closed.

"Now we should move back to the parlour. Phase two is the least painful of tonight's events. And then we shall all partake of some rather fine blood cake." Xander's smile was as warm and hearty as the good-natured soul he still partly retained from the hyena and the soldier's spirits inside of his former self, that which clung dearly to the bits of his now darkened soul.

"Mr. Dalthers and Mr. Elvin are two of my greater associates. They are the new juniors of the Order and all problems of finance or management shall be brought to Mr. Dalthers attention. All problems concerning education, art, or persecution shall be brought to Elvin. And dear Charlie shall handle all matters regarding the Slayer or rumors of other demonic activity. I'd prefer to hear anything of interest involving prophecies or vengeful demons from all of you at the weekly meetings. You have ears and it is time you use them. As for those of you wishing lessons on fighting with weapons or hand to hand combat, I shall be leading you. Please see me after the meeting. These are serious things that must occur and this is not playtime. The Order shall be glorious and efficient and in time Angel may even return." There was a brief pause and then Xander found himself moving toward the projector that Elvin was finishing putting into place.

"Oh, and by the way, if you double cross me I shall know. Each week we shall have a meeting and there are several spells on that chalice. We shall all know if there are traitors or ones who hold back allegiance. Allegiance is something I treasure."

The meeting dragged on for an hour more and then Xander spent quite a bit of time shrugging advances away from the girls and various men of the meeting wanting to know about his strength. The time would come for orgies and bull sessions, Xander was sure, but that was not tonight. He was wiped from the character acting.

Elvin could no longer contain his chuckle as the last guest retreated home. "Allegiance is something I treasure? Laying it on a bit thick are we?"

"I had to think of something. I'm pretty sure I sprinkled enough doom on them."

"Just to be honest here," Charlie's brow furrowed as he turned toward Xander from the parlour and Elvin turned from the middle of the stairway, "which spells did you use on the chalice? I thought you couldn't on that particular piece of lore."

"Well, dear Charlie, you know that and so do I, but how many of them do you chance are aware of such a vital piece of information?"

Elvin snorted through his nose and then sighed as he continued laughing all the way back towards his room.


	10. Chapter 10

It was all for the best that they had slashed his tires. Sunrise was only a couple hours off, but it was only a light jog. He knew he'd have fun antagonizing the Trio. Or as he liked to call them, "the Marshmallow Peeps of Prey." It was amusing having that much vast amount of pop culture trivia at his disposal.

He kicked the back tire on the right side and then glowered at it. Xander followed this with a guttural sort of laugh, remembering Clem's little speech about this particular "Spike Special" that he had salvaged. Xander had gratefully taken it off his hands for the cool factor, but he wasn't so keen on being dead at the wheel. Truth be told, he trusted his feet more than machines. Which was an Achilles heel for the boys currently meeting in this house.

It was part of Xander's duties to check out the underbelly society of Sunnydale, which was the only society of Sunnydale as well. At least, Xander supposed it. It was natural in the course of the week to hear about dumb college kids experimenting with spells to cure their lives or angst. It was natural for a mortal to stumble into a demon bar and either fit right in or be torn to shreds. Not that Buffy liked that part much. But if they were stupid enough to not try and fit in, which was easier to do than most anticipated, then Xander thought they deserved what they got. After all, demons were just like bikers with built in defense mechanisms.

It was with slight trepidation that he had come tonight. He had vague recollections, thanks to the soldier spirit, of Jonathan's little spell casting and then of what had happened between Buffy and him in the bell tower. Riley had been useful then, not recognizing Xander in the darkness of the bar. One of his late uncle's friends had run the place and gave Xander a spot job whenever either needed something of that nature. He had a lot of fun there. Especially now.

The house itself seemed unremarkable, but the contents inside more than made up for it. Buffy had been wrong about them. And distracted yet again. The unusually perceptive Willow was also so much at war with herself over Tara's declaration that it was "her or the magic!" that she had failed to notice anything in the arcade that clued Xander into what he saw tonight. He cataloged the information for relay to Charlie at a later date. He was beginning to enjoy research and filing things away. It proved so useful later on.

Xander replayed the night's events as he set out on a light jog, intent on not looking too dangerous in case he came across Buffy. This was not yet the time to explain his newfound position in life.

"All three of them were at the arcade? I thought Jonathan had left town."

"Well apparently the dwarf of a nerd has got a lot more going for him than we thought."

"Could you be down-playing the danger factor, Buff?" Xander chewed at his pen, scratching that spot behind his left fang that he loved so much in times of stress.

"That was a very Giles thing to say, Xander. Some thing's different."

Oh great, Xander thought, now she notices that I'm changing. "So not! G-man, help me out here!"

Giles began to wipe his glasses, bemused at the young man's transformation and the fact that he was so adept at both hiding it and giving himself a way. It would have been easy to blame the remnants of the soldier spirit laying with the hyena, and now demon, residing within him. "He seems to just be maturing a bit, Willow. I see no reason to worry if Alexander is using more caution as of recent. He's out enough at night."

"Thanks G-man."

"You've been going out? On patrol?! Without me and with an ex-lover vengeance demon we have yet to track down?!"

Xander winced. "Geez, Buffy. When you say it like that it makes it sounds as if I'm doing something stupid and dangerous."

"It's not exactly Reese's Peanut Butter cups and Scooby Doo marathon level, Xan."

Xander mumbled something under his breath, trying very hard not to rely on Giles' as an ally and worm his foot out of his mouth in one fell swoop. "Well, I mean, just take Angel for instance." He flinched again when Buffy stared. "I mean, or Owen. Come on. Your guard can be a little fuzzy at moments."

"Don't bring Angel into this. He might have been dangerous, but not through his own stupidity. These guys are dangerous because they get in the way, they want me out of the way..."

"They're just the way blockage."

"Thank you Willow. I'm glad you see my point of view."

"Buffy, I hate to break it to you, but you miscalculate one too many times and we'll all regret it." Xander rushed up from his chair with vampire speed and out into the night, trying not to fake hyperventilate. Something didn't add up to him. He would have to go see this Trio for himself. They were more of a danger than Buffy was giving them credit for.

Clem was easy enough to find, residing in Spike's old crypt. And he was happy to rid himself of the black Nova that needed "a little love." Xander wasn't sure about that. He just knew he needed to make an impression. Rumors that the boys were checking into vampire nests abounded. And he didn't need them searching around his bed of lies. It would turn complicated very fast if his Order began to disappear because of them and if Buffy was told by an enemy that a close ally was keeping secrets. Big secrets. Like Dr. Doom shaped secrets.

The house itself was unremarkable but easy enough to find. Most of the houses in Sunnydale screamed inhabited by evil, insanity, or blissful ignorance. It just helped that theirs was dilapidated a bit more. Apparently, they hadn't gotten the memo to stop plotting evil just long enough to buy a coat of paint. Furthermore, where were they getting their money from anyways?

Xander adjusted his invisible tie as if he were about to go on a first date. He knocked politely and then called out.

"Hello? Jonathan? It's Xander Harris! We went to high school together." There was a shadow or two that moved in the background of the tinted glass and no response either than the sound of something being pushed closer. Jonathan's voice returned the call with hints of trepidation, which sounded normal.

"And what do you want?"

"Can't a fella just talk nerd to nerd?"

Jonathan's voice grew a little stronger. "We know you're with the Slayer."

"Well, Buffy's not here. But it's not like I'm going to wait for you to break the door down. You alone or are Warren and Andrew there as well?"

"How do you know about them?!"

"I'm with the Slayer, remember? Now are you going to open the door and let me in or will I be breaking it down?"

Andrew reached the door first and opened it. "No! I'm still making payments on the tinted glass. It's a borrowed replica of Darth Vader's second eyepiece from Return of the Jedi."

"Can I come in?" Xander asked again, hiding the impatience in his voice.

"Live long and prosper." Warren's gazed from behind Jonathan, leaning on the back of a chair.

"Nice mix of nerd genre."

"So what brings you to us tonight, Xander?"

"A little of this and a little of that."

"You come to make a deal for the Slayer?"

Xander didn't respond the first couple of seconds. He was rather intrigued by a scent he was picking up and by the figure of Vampirella casually lying about. "I don't speak for Buffy. And she's not the type of girl to make deals."

"Life's going to be a big hassle for her."

"Like she's not used to that. I was the guy that had to compete with an evil vampire master. I think I speak for all of the Scoobies when I say hassle will be a nice breathe of fresh air. Do you mind, Andrew?" Xander had removed his coat swiftly and had slung it over his arm, revealing pale biceps under a plain white shirt.

"I'm not your..."

"Andrew. That's just not polite. Being evil doesn't mean we're not civilized."

Andrew sighed. "Okay Warren." He turned back to Xander. "But don't think this is an everyday occurrence." There was something of vague defiance, a spark Xander smiled inwardly at. He foggily wondered what it would be like to dominate someone like Andrew. But then he'd probably only have to ask Warren.

"Of course not, Andrew. You were just closest. Shall we get down to business?"

"And what is that business? Why are you here?"

"Jonathan, man, it's not good to be that suspicious. There is something unhealthy about it."

"Living in this god-forsaken town so many years can do that to a person."

"Xander."

"Warren?"

"You sure you want to put all your eggs in the Slayer basket?"

"Hey! I know what's it like. Believe me. It's not easy being the one with with encyclopedic knowledge of Moltar's favorite early nineties hip hop bands. It's not fun being one of the few who can appreciate the beauty of the arc that created Spectre. And knowing that Green Lantern has successfully won against yellow twenty-two times on the early versions of the Superfriends? I take pride in this, but only to an extent. What I'm more curious about it what you boys are up to."

"Do we necessarily have to be up to something?"

"Making world take over proclamations can do it. And it's not like any of you are adept at magic." Xander blinked at Jonathan from the corner of his eye and noticed the young man's Adam apple bobbing up and down. "It's great you can tinker with all of this technology though I am wondering where you would get the money to pay from it and who would be well organized enough to think it all through."

Warren's clapping wasn't nearly as harsh as his laugh. "I applaud you Harris. The Slayer takes you for granted."

"She wouldn't be the only one. I'm just here to see what kind of wisdom you're little band has."

"Enough." Jonathan's voice still held defiance tailored with a bit of second-guessed annoyance. His pauses were filled with questions more than with answers.

"I'd like to thank you for your time gentlemen. I will be in touch." Xander gave a quick bow and then went to leave.

"Your jacket."

"I'll be back for it." Xander smiled at Andrew, who's face drew down into a tiny blush.


	11. Chapter 11

The knock at the door was hesitant at best. It took the better part of his concentration away from the sound of the movie to hear it. Tommy Lee Jones' better half froze on the screen as Xander clicked the little pause button. He swiveled his head towards the door.

"Come in."

"Don't you want to know who it is?"

Jonathan. Xander glanced at himself, all the better for shock value. "I already knew it was you."

"How?"

"I have cameras." Which wasn't exactly a lie. Just leaving out the part about the boy's signature blood scent was. "Are you going to stand outside the door all night?"

"No." Jonathan stopped at the doorway, his teeth just visible above his lower lip as he considered the scene with shock.

"What?"

"It's just that I've never known anyone to..."

"Watch a movie upside down?" Xander bent himself in half and flipped downward while holding the bar. His dark bangs cut the wind and he grinned at Jonathan as he landed in one of the comfier chairs near the half of the room converted into a pseudo-library and entertainment shrine. "Used to do it all the time when I was a kid."

"Did you watch the Super friends upside down?"

"And the Wacky Races."

"There were so many things about the continuity of those shows that bothered me, for instance..."

Xander shook his head and raised his hands. Jonathan's head deflated slightly as he pursed his lips, stopping the babbling before it started. "While I do appreciate a good nerd bull session as much as the next guy, this is my night off from my work. And so I must wonder why you are here, Jonathan? Didn't I say I would return to you?"

"Well, I did stop by earlier, but your mansion was all shut up and so I figured you were at work. Speaking of which, where did you get the money to pay for a place like this?"

"I'm babysitting it for a friend."

"And I thought you were getting married?"

"Who did you hear that from?" Xander quirked his eyebrow and scanned the room for the nearest chair to offer Jonathan.

"I have my sources. I liked keeping tabs on the Scoobies. It's not every Sunnydale class that had a protector." Jonathan winced at the memory of one of his few selfless and whole-hearted acts.

Xander kicked out a chair across the ottoman. It made a slight screeching sound against the thoughtful silence. Jonathan lowered himself and looked exceedingly small in the chair.

"You seem nervous."

"I'm not nervous. Just full of energy. I stopped by Denny's while I waited for you."

The remnants of Xander's stomach rumbled at the memory of the Grand Slam. "That brings back memories."

"Did the Golden Trio of Sunnydale go there often?"

"No. We were more likely to haunt the Bronze. But after a long week of patrolling, nothing beats a hearty, fat-filled meal like Denny's."

"You're watching a Batman movie."

He's stalling, Xander thought. He must be nervous. But why? "I was, indeed. A new favorite. Although nothing beats Batman Returns. Cat woman and the Penguin, played expertly." Xander turned his wrist and reached for the remote. Pressing stop, the screen went blank.

"You know, Harvey Dent always fascinated me as a villain."

Xander folded his hands together across his lap. "Why?"

"Well, I mean if you take the insanity the Joker has for no reason and the strength of mind of the Riddler along with the sex appeal of cat woman, you have Harvey Dent as Two-Face, a man with a warped sense of vengeance."

"But I don't get how that fascinates you."

"Necrotilis fasciliiatis."

"Come again?"

"It's the latin term for flesh-eating virus. Well, technically that's a misnomer. The flesh isn't actually eaten by the bacteria..."

"And you think this contributed to his insanity?"

"I do. I mean, think about it. You have this massive infection running around near your brain. It's bound to get in there."

Xander smiled a bit and licked his lips. "Very astute. What does Warren think of Two Face?"

Jonathan's skin went pale. "He doesn't. He spends all his time in plotting and doing maniacal things so he pretty much gets a little farther away each day as he's consumed a little more."

"Did you guys think of the dangerous game you're playing in Sunnydale? This is no child's suburb, Jonathan."

Jonathan drew himself up in his chair. "I know the risks. I've toyed with the dark side."

"I remember."

"How?"

"You have your secrets and I have mine."

"I think you can tell what one of my secrets is."

"Oh?"

"You frighten me."

"King of Cretins? I frighten you?"

"There's something new and different about you. This subtle confidence that I've noticed in Warren as well. It's like a mad genius lit you with thunderbolts and you've just become something."

"How about a secret for a secret?" Jonathan tensed in his chair. "I am something different than what I was."

"You aren't human anymore are you?"

"Am I that obvious?"

"No. Not with them. But what, what are you Xander?"

"Is that what you came to ask me? Is that what you want to know, really?" Jonathan gulped and Xander began thinking wicked things as Jonathan's Adam apple bobbed nervously around his throat.

"I came to..."

Xander rose from his chair and began drifting in thoughtful pauses to Jonathan. "You came to what?"

"I..."

"Come now, Jonathan. I couldn't shut you up about Harvey Dent. Surely you must have something to say..."

"Stop enunciating like that."

"Why? Does it make you feel something?"

"You're not..."

Xander quirked his eyebrow again and let the vampire soul surge through his arm, changing one hand. That hand moved across Jonathan's arm, clutched against the chair as though it were about to lift through a tornado.

"I'm not what?"

"Stop..."

"Stop what?"

"Don't stop..."

"Which is it, Jonathan? Why are you here?"

A knock at the door. Louder and more incessant than Jonathan's had been. The sound of Charlie and a female voice arguing. Xander cursed and let his hand revert to human form. Dawn burst into the room with Charlie at her heels.


	12. Chapter 12

Dawn gestured with her elbow towards the right. "I think Xander has something he'd like to say."

Xander cursed silently to himself while Eldridge chuckled, or howled with laughter depending upon your definition. He knew that he shouldn't have let the conversation lag. But, at the moment, keeping his pencil motivated to be held in the air by one finger was more interesting. Xander hadn't even dropped the pencil when Dawn had ended the abrupt silence.

He had been warned of this. Breaking in on Xander and Jonathan, Dawn had been inconsolable and fresh from a bout of tears. He supposed dealing with one of the Scoobies becoming a vampire did that to a person. Xander was surprised, and slightly flattered, at how thorough her level of detective work had grown. _Now if only the Key had some supernatural power_, Xander thought, _she'd be an asset to my team_.

"I swear to God if you hurt us…" Dawn clenched her fist.

_Gutsy move_, Xander thought. _Threatening a slightly unhinged newbie vampire trying to lure an unsure dupe into his web_. Of course, Jonathan had excused himself and bolted red-faced, but, hey, Xander could deal with him later. Or maybe Eldridge could.

"Dawn, you have to calm down. Are you sure any of this evidence points to me actually being a vampire?"

Dawn watched Xander's hands move through the air as he sat Indian-style on top of his desk. "Well, no, not exactly. But you've been off. You have to admit that the toaster thing was pretty convincing."

Xander sighed. "So you think that possibly not seeing my reflection once on a very hot morning between patrol and dawn makes me a vampire?"

"Oh no. It's so much more than that. In all the time I've known you, and I even asked Tara to ask Willow to confirm this for me, you've never turned down a frosted strawberry pop tart. I knew something was wrong with you Xander. Ever since you returned from your little road trip…"

_She doesn't know about the first one I took with Oz,_ Xander thought. _She doesn't know I went to Africa. I'm not totally screwed yet. Please don't make me have to do something I'll regret, Dawnie. I'd rather not have to try and explain your destruction via Nassau demons from the seventh dimension via that handy painting spell_. "Things have been different, I know. But that's the nature of life, the nature of change. What are you so worried about?"

It was in the flash of a second that Xander saw it. Dawn grabbed for a book and opened it hastily, ensuring a paper cut. Luckily, Eldridge had no desire to drink from her. She was family, in the loosest sense of the PTB terminology, and Xander still lived by some rules of loyalty, even if the rest of the world did indeed go to pot. "It's okay, Dawn. It's okay to be scared."

She seemed to crumple in on herself momentarily, making the mistake of second guessing the clues and hints. "Well, it's just that…everyone's been so distracted and I thought…"

Xander finished her thought to its logical conclusion. "This would be the perfect time for something so extreme to happen that the entire group is destroyed."

Dawn looked like she was trying not to force tears, but it was clear that there were none left to fall. She managed a very meek nod. "You're the only family I have now that mom is gone."

Xander swung down from the top of the desk. "Look, I do have a secret. But I promise that it will never harm you."

"But what about Buffy, Willow, Giles, Tara?"

Her honesty in her alliance with the Scoobies was touching. "You know how I feel about the family." Xander almost could fool himself, except for the bitter taste in the back of the words.

"You promise then?"

"I promise."

Dawn had nodded and bounced up. "Then I guess I just stopped by to…to check out the place! Yes, I heard you were in Angel's old mansion now and I thought maybe…Chinese food?"

She was grasping for straws. "I have an early dinner here. But you're welcome to talk with Charlie. He's a good guy, worked for an airline. Come on Dawnie. Angel's got a library here that would rival anything Giles has at the box." Xander shepherded her to another room filled with a vast array of leather-bound books.

Apparently he hadn't successfully distracted her.

The silence was more deafening now as Xander came through the flashback to the actual pre-patrol meeting. Dawn nodded in encouragement, "Well, go on Xander."

He sighed and rubbed his fingers across the bridge of his nose while doing the itch scratch with his left fang that helped him to de-stress. Willow was now fully staring at him and Buffy was tapping the end of her pen on the table. He thought he might confess just to get her to stop.

"I'm sorry Dawn. I don't know what you're talking about. Oh! Other than me moving into Angel's old mansion with his blessing."

Willow shrugged and Buffy went back to her book. Dawn looked crest-fallen. "So, wait. Everyone knew?"

"I'm afraid the shock is one intended only for you." Giles sighed and then proceeded to wipe his glasses with his shirt.

"And you kept this from me?" Dawn's voice squeaked just a little.

Buffy's argument was unconvincing. "We didn't want you to worry Dawn. We know that you've got this overactive imagination…"

Dawn shook her head as she narrowed her eyes at Buffy. "Overactive imagination? Is that all I am to you? Just someone with an overactive imagination? At least I went to confront Xander while he was talking with Jonathan last night…"

Shit. That was the best word Xander could think of. Briefly followed by the word fan.

Buffy's face paled. "You did what?"

Dawn's eyes went wide. She rarely saw Buffy angry in this kind of way.

Xander stood, trying to force himself not to pace. "So what if I did? What if I'm trying to get some actual work done with them?"

"With them? Are you listening to yourself? You don't work with them."

Willow interjected next. "Buffy's right, Xander. They're dangerous, toying with things they don't understand. We just can't go barging in. There are other threats right now."

_Don't call me Xander_, he thought. _I'm something stronger, deeper, and darker now. If you only knew, not only would you never trust me again, but also you'd probably dust me. And I bet not even Angel would come to the cremation ceremony_. "Other threats? Are you so sure about that, Will? I know you've been distracted lately…"

Giles let out a sigh. "I don't believe this is the right time for this…"

Xander's voice snarled. Weeks of pent up frustration began spilling outward. "No, it never is, is it? She's so special, witch wonder to the reborn slayer! Are you really that busy and that blind? I'm trying to do good here Giles!"

Tara sighed. "If we could just all calm down and talk this out…"

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and rose to meet Xander's gaze. "I don't see how there is anything to talk out. You know better than to go behind my back. You of all people know how dangerous that is!"

"Would you have noticed if Dawn hadn't said anything?"

"How dare you…"

"How dare I what, Buff? Point out the obvious?" Xander started motioning with his arm across the book-laden table. "Point out the fact that all you do everyday is pine after the men that have run away from you and then just snatch victory from the jaws of defeat? I'm getting tired of always running last in this race!"

Buffy's voice set into a determined posture, much like her body language. "Get out."

"What?"

Willow shot up from her chair, stunned. "Buffy, Xander…"

"He heard me. He took initiative on something that could have potential consequences. This is who you are; always doing and never thinking. If anything, I'm tired of cleaning up your messes, Xander. Either you do things my way or not at all."

"So this is how it's going to be, Slayer?"

Buffy's voice rang distant. "That's your choice. No one's forcing you to stay."

Giles tried to interject. "Now, Buffy, if we could just…"

Her voice was a command, not a request. "No Giles."

Xander remembered the first time she had fought for him against the Watchers Council. It was betrayal, it was attitude, and it was over-confidence. It was everything she had become and everything she had lost that made her this vapid creature that couldn't even tell that one best friend was a magick junkie and the other a vampire at the top of an order's pecking chain. This was the new Buffy Summers. He missed the old one.

"We've had a lot of disagreements in the past, Buff. Most of them were my fault, I always admitted it, even if it was too late." Xander was facing Buffy now, the air between them frigid. "I remember feeling the opposite of what I do now as this part of my life ends. In a way, you need me more than anyone. All I have to do is look at your hands to see that."

Xander had nothing left to say. He couldn't bring himself to address Willow or to even shake Giles' hand. But there was one thing left to do. He brought Buffy into a kiss. She was stunned, but then felt something before pushing him away. She felt how cold how was, but beyond that…Buffy felt a change. Something was different from the Xander she knew. He wasn't a demon magnet or an abject, idiotic troublemaker. He was realistic, a grounding force in the electrical field of slaying. And she was letting him go.

"Xander…"

But he was done listening. He had other plans, other places to be. Xander needed to find Jonathan, to change his mind. He would protect whom he could. He would watch over his girls or maybe he would leave for LA. There was another hell mouth in Cleveland, he knew of. Eldridge had choices to make now, hard ones.

Buffy watched him leave, ignoring Willow's rather upset and tearful hand gestures and silent words. His back swayed and she could see muscles. He was no longer gawky but had an almost graceful masculine gait. She had only seen in twice before. Both men were gone and both were vampires. Buffy felt the weight on her hand and remembered Xander's words. The claddagh ring's face winked at her in the reflection of the Magic Box lights.


	13. Chapter 13

_I should have my own theme song,_ Xander quipped. _When was the last time someone stood up to that blond shrew masquerading as the end-all is all of the powers that be? _Xander shook his head as he walked. _No, I can't think of Buffy like that. As bad as she's become, she is still the Slayer and eventually might earn my respect back. In any case, at least we can stop pretending now. _

There was a weight that fled Xander as he continued walking. He remembered that afternoon, humid in an almost rainy way, in which he had run from Anya. That had felt somewhat the same. Maybe psychologists called it turning the page on a chapter you should have already finished reading. Xander didn't know and wasn't inclined to care. Truth be told, he was busy. His mental checklist was as full as the Windows server after a bad patch. And that would just be the complaints from Willow.

Xander stopped in the middle of the street and began blinking. It was unexpected and there was no reason for him to think of tears. After all, Willow and Xander had survived a lot together. Slayers, vampires, werewolves, "bitchier than thou" Cordelia attacks, Jenny's death, and Xander's own amazing levels of stupidity. Barring her finding out about his indiscretion with sending Angel to hell, Xander had faith that they could survive. As long as Tara could get her to come away from the call of black magick; not that Xander could place much blame on Willow. He wondered openly if he'd even be able to talk to Tara now. She seemed to have as much sense as Xander.

Xander continued on unabated. He sighed deeply, breathing in the streets where he was now king. No one contested his throne, this week anyways, and his weekly meetings in finances and arts had been big hits. Even if the only reason was because of the mandatory nature of them, Xander didn't care. He wouldn't let Angel down.

Angel; this entire charade for the cold, absent Angel. When had the world gone so screwy? Xander noticed where his feet had led him before the shiver caused him to shrink inwards. He was far past his comfort zone and back near the edge of town where Angel's club was. Not that Angel owned it, but it was the first place that had been their place. That had been the first time…well; Xander didn't particularly want to think about that.

His vampiric hearing picked up on the faint sound of a familiar lone voice. Who would be stupid enough to be out on his own, without protection, this late at night? The voice was male, slightly higher pitched with a tinge of panic. There was also a slight wince to it, as though this person expected the world to pick on him. Xander felt a breeze pick up in his wake. He had to worry before Jonathan did something stupid.

"I'm giving you a chance to rule the city!" His voice was impatient and sounded almost like a petulant child when it was raised in that tone. Xander shook his head as he watched from above. Taking a theatrical cue from his sire, Xander had scaled an old emergency ladder and watched the scene play from above. A small portion of his shadow crossed the dull brick unnoticed.

"You, and what exactly could you do for us? Well, besides providing yourself as food?" The vampire in the Union Jack tank snickered to his two comrades.

Jonathan backed up, the first mistake Xander witnessed. He assumed there had been many previous. Xander saw much of himself in Jonathan. Being torn between a thirst for worth and independence chief among them. For a moment, Xander hesitated on his plan with Jonathan. But it couldn't be too soon. Moments like this would lead to an easy death without some form of intervention. Jonathan's words were as shaky as his ground. "You're missing a golden opportunity here!"

"The only thing we're missing is the moment where you become our next hot meal."

Jonathan pulled out the holy water from the hidden squirt gun just in time to shoot some through one of the vampire's nostrils. The youngest and dark-haired of the group fumbled around for a bit before slamming his head against a wall and dusting himself on a moldy crate. The blond vampire laughed again. "Thanks. Not only are you a meal, but you're a great source of entertainment!"

_Callous bastard_, Xander thought_. That's your kin, your childe, and your brother_. Xander knew the blond vamp with the bad Vanilla Ice fade as Zach. He was arrogant at best and foolhardy at his worst. He wanted nothing more to be a rock star and a god. Xander wanted to and would take him down very easily, given the chance.

Xander felt the building pull away, missing Jonathan's response in the process, as gravity yanked him towards ground level. The trick of falling with pure grace and motionless sound was not something you could be taught. Luckily, Xander had been a quick study on Angel and Angelus enough to learn the tricks of listening for the wind, natural pauses in conversation, and general other stuff that could mask your entrance. Xander also thought that landing on top of a green dumpster, his hand extended down for leverage and a brief wind blowing through his subtle bangs, was a great message to send to enemies and friends alike. After all, who doesn't want to stick a cool landing? He couldn't think of anyone.

Zach halted as he saw Xander behind Jonathan, noticing the glint in the superior vampire's eye. Vampires were just as territorial as hyenas and Xander still had to lay down law to nests outside of his own order. His time was growing short and the fuse in Sunnydale was already lit. Something would have to be done. But the first order of business was Jonathan.

"So, do we have a deal?" Jonathan's voice grew a bit of confidence seeing Zach stopped frozen.

Zach thought a moment and huffed. Not even noticing Jonathan in the aftermath, Zach and his cronies leapt away, Xander having won the momentary challenge. Jonathan exhaled deeply as Xander spoke, causing Jonathan to jump almost eye level.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that these streets are dangerous?"

Jonathan pouted in anger and embarrassment. "You don't have to tell me. I went to high school in this town, remember?"

Xander nodded as he leaped to the cement ground. "I remember. Case in point as to why you shouldn't be out here alone."

"I can take care of myself." Jonathan began to hurry away, but he was not as fast as Xander.

"That's really rude." Xander walked alongside Jonathan, who couldn't even be bothered to look in the other man's direction.

"What is?"

"Walking away in the middle of the conversation like that." Xander remained cool in the face of anger, confusion, and embarrassment.

"We weren't having a conversation. You were being condescending and I get enough of that from Warren. I don't need it from you, oh master vampire."

_It's a good sign when he openly mocks his leader in such a manner_. Xander shifted his weight and turned his heel, causing Jonathan to almost crash into the bulk of his body as Xander threw himself headlong into the conversation. "Hey! How about a little gratitude?" He was masking his amusement with impatience.

"For what?"

"For saving your life."

"I can take care of myself." Jonathan's spine stiffened.

"Yeah. Cause you're so much like me."

"Don't compare us. I have big plans."

"Yes. You're going to rule the world alongside of Warren and Andrew. How could I ever forget that? Just promise that you'll throw a few poor crumbs my way when that time comes. How is that going anyways?" Xander batted his eyelashes in Jonathan's direction and smiled.

"Oh, just go away Xander." Jonathan, frustrated as hell, shoved his hands violently into his pockets and began to try and hurry away. _Optimum level of fail,_ Xander thought, _as he easily caught the weakest link of the Trio_.

"No. Not until you tell me what in the hell you were thinking." Xander stared deeply into Jonathan in a way that made both feel slightly nervous.

"Fine. I'm thinking that we need back up. Yes, we've got the technology, but we need numbers as well. I'm trying to…"

"Do whatever you can to get Warren to notice you."

"That's not what I mean."

"That's not what you were going to say either. What exactly does Warren have over you that keep you all together? It's obvious the guy doesn't like you, this town, or anything about the plan…" Xander craned his head into a sympathetic lean, closing the gap between himself and Jonathan.

Jonathan backed away half a step and then flung his hands from his pockets, pointing a finger at Xander. "That's not true! It's his plan, his idea, all of it!"

"But you have other plans, don't you?"

"Those don't matter."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Jonathan, of course they do. You and your plans both matter." Xander closed the gap between them for a second time.

"No they don't. I wouldn't have even avoided getting eaten tonight if it weren't for you."

"If you're lucky, you might still get eaten." Xander grinned wolfishly as Jonathan sighed. All Xander could do was let his face fall and sigh. "What? Vampire humor not funny? Fine. At least let me get you home."

"Thanks, Xander, but I've got…"

"Other fates to tempt? Come on; let me get you to the mansion at least. Then tomorrow night I won't heckle you as you attempt to recruit a legion of undead minions. Cross my heart and hope to fry." Xander mimicked crossing his fingers over the place where his heart used to be.

"That would be a trick. But I don't suppose I'd get away fast enough, would I?" Jonathan's eyes flipped upwards towards Xander, initiating the intimate gaze again.

"Nope. Either I follow you in the shadows or we walk and talk together."

"I just can't win."

"You'll find that's a popular sentiment."

"So…Xander…can I ask you something?" They walked along the streets slowly, vigilant of the hour.

"Sure."

"Why, why are you bothering to help me?"

"Because Jonathan…"

"Because…Xander?"

They came to the front gate of the mansion and Xander ceased moving, still as a pouncing feral cat. The wind echoed a bellow across the gate and through its shrieking chorus. Xander had great habit of locking the gate before moving through the shadows. This was unacceptable and nothing near Charlie's fastidious habits.

As if remembering that Jonathan was still there and he was not momentarily avoiding his plan, Xander spoke, looking away."…You have promise."

"You think I have promise." Jonathan blinked, sending up an emotional wall of denial.

Xander turned to Jonathan, slightly panicked for his safety. "Yes, I do. There's a great deal of potential in you and, I'll be honest, Warren's a fool for not having tried to exploit it yet. But now's not the time to talk about it. Come and see me later."

"But…"

"Later, Jonathan!" Xander felt his voice rise in sharp agony. The scent, the warmth in his bones. It couldn't be, it wouldn't be.

Xander couldn't see himself in the mirror of the entry way glass and that hurt him more than anything. He knew that beneath his eyes, if he looked, he'd find a manic sort of desperation and lots of pain conflicting with an embarrassing sort of lust hanging just over the rims of adolescence. Xander thought he was done with that person, wanted to be done with that person. But he never would be.

The door creaked when it opened, causing Xander to jump unnaturally. He was here, hidden and laying in wait. The house was empty, save for Angel's scent alone. That perturbed Xander on a variety of levels. Elvis and Charlie were nowhere in shot of the senses. He hoped Angel hadn't seen them or spoken to them. There's a high and likely chance that he could ruin the plan.

Xander knew he could creep up the stairs, but Angel would smell him or hear him. So he bellowed as he walked. He bellowed his sire's name. The name itself meant so little, but in front of the man was decades of hollow loneliness and doubt. Before his title was an air of mystery and dangerous defiance. How Xander wanted him, wanted to be that as well. That was the reason this entire charade had begun. But he could never forget whom he was, Angel's darkness, the potential for withering pain to blossom as a choking vine over the love of white roses.

The scent was strongest in the bedroom. It leaked through the sheets, soaked the open window like shocking rain in a violent wind. The room beyond was no longer bare. Angel had been here or was still here.

Xander struggled toward the unlit light switch on the other side of the room. But, in a moment, an arm came swiftly down and grappled with him.

"Hello, Xander. Been busy, my childe?"


	14. Chapter 14

There was a sting that seemed to rip through several layers of his skin. Xander's eyes were closed the entire time the universe of his skin ripped apart like that theory involving bangs.

"I still don't understand what happened." Charlie's voice was hollow, as if he were forcing himself to care. He sat by Xander's bedside while Xander lay sprawled out across it, almost dozing.

"It doesn't matter. What does matter is that I'm a vampire and I heal a lot easier than I did when I was just…" Xander finally decided to brave looking at the scars, even though he couldn't convince himself that it didn't matter. Truth be told, he couldn't remember their point of origin either.

"Is that the most important thing to you now, really?"

"What matters the most is getting the number of that Mac truck." Xander groaned as he stretched his back, unnecessary dressings falling from places where slashes and burns had developed into scars and then nothingness over his cool skin. "Hey, this is me we're talking about! Indestructible Eldridge, remember?"

"All I can remember," Charlie continued defensively, "is finding you face down on the bed, covered in whips and bruises with no one else in the room and no recollection of how they had gotten there."

Xander considered himself lucky that he couldn't blush. No one could know Angel was back yet. Xander hoped it was Angel at least. But if there was one thing Xander had been taught well by Angel was that one should never show fear to inferiors. He hated considering Charlie an inferior, but that was the truth. Charlie was his childe. Xander was just lucky both his disciples had been out of the house.

"Are you saying that I'm lying to you?" Xander snarled, baring his teeth and rising slightly from the bed.

"No." There was a tinge of surprise in Charlie's voice at hearing his sire's reaction. "It's just that…it all seems a bit funny to me."

"Funny, Jakob? You want to see funny?"

"There's no need to use my demon's name Xander. You're not trying to show off for your underlings here. It's just me"

Xander leapt up, enjoying the way his cat-like acrobatics popped the knots of tension in his back. The acid in his feral face moved through his body, changing veins and youthful skin into defined echoes of darkness. "And you think you're any better than them?"

"I'd like to think so. You did pick me first Xander."

Xander licked his lips and smiled. "What did you call me?"

"That's the name you let Jonathan use." Charlie's voice was, at best, confused. He found himself backing against the chest of drawers opposite the bed. Xander could smell Elvis in the room nearby. Charlie felt a need to protect his brother.

Xander reached his hand forward, surging with wrath. "You let me worry about Jonathan and my other affairs. You just concern yourself with keeping hearth and home. Deal?" He snarled and small spots of drool appeared at the corner of Xander's mouth. Eldridge had far too much control at the moment; Xander knew he had to reign in the demon before he did too much damage.

But that glorious feeling rising through his gut made Xander take just a moment. It was seductive, the feeling of holding one life in your hands like this. Just one squeeze and a quick slice of a claw could separate head from neck. Xander could watch those cocky eyes bulge as those pursed lips echoed danger and surprise, hurt and fear, all at the same time. It was delicious.

Xander threw Charlie, who gasped and staggered from the room, looking back over his shoulder. The feral face turned back towards the open window, spots of moonbeam lighting down upon the bed. Xander found himself floating down into the scent and sighed. Angel was still there, somewhere close. He had to be.

Across town in a house far less grand than the mansion came a knock on a bedroom door. Jonathan sat up meekly, willing the door to be silent, from his thrift store mattress. Pulling all resources into offensive and defensive weaponry had drained the comforts budget. But Jonathan was pretty sure he was willing to sacrifice some comfort for the cause. Most days he could believe that Warren and Andrew did the same.

Something Xander had said touched Jonathan. It moved beyond the sound of welding equipment against a piece of metal. It moved against the sight of Warren's battle plans, drawn expertly on an old CAD machine, just inches from his bowl of morning cereal. The nagging feeling wouldn't let get past the feeling he had when the trio were in the same room, working on an experiment, and all of a sudden it felt as though there was a duo and Jonathan.

He could get over most of that. Once before, he had failed on his own. And now he needed others. It was a basic human instinct, he contended. But that pounding wouldn't go away. Jonathan didn't feel so hot and that pounding did a tandem dance with Warren's fist against the door.

"Jonathan, you need to come out here!" Warren's voice was tense. The honeymoon period had ended when Jonathan had ceased to be the yes man that Andrew had become. True, Andrew's personality wasn't forceful. It wasn't anything beyond an ordinary sort of smartness. But it was enough that he stroked Warren's ego.

As usual, Andrew echoed, albeit with a slight level of consideration. "Jonathan, we'd like to know what happened."

"I almost got killed. Not that you'd care." Did he really sound like that? Jonathan felt whiny.

"That's not true. You're just over-reacting. Now open the door." Warren's voice was strained. "Zach is one of my oldest friends and allies. I have to know if you opened the deal."

"He almost killed me, Warren. What do you think?"

Warren exhaled through his teeth. "You screwed it up then."

"What happened?"

"Xander." Jonathan only had to say the one word. Warren could piece the rest together.

"Fuck! So he knows then."

Jonathan bolted toward the door and savagely swung it in the direction of Warren's voice. "You think I'm that easy, don't you? Is that all I am to you; some sort of Johnny Quest casualty waiting to happen? I'm the one who risks my life for the cause! I'm the one spreading the word while all you do is go about your little cocoon…"

Andrew sighed, giving Jonathan a look that made him feel a foot tall. "Jonathan, how many times do we have to tell you? You don't want to spread the word of an evil organization."

"That's not true! All those things that go bump in the night! You think it's a coincidence that the greatest surge of power came from this little town we did our damndest to escape from?" Jonathan's flailing arms moved back through the room, motioning on the window.

Warren shook his head and then bowed it a little. "You're way too excitable Jonathan."

"But I…"

Warren moved forward, closing the gap between the pair. "Look, I know it's been tough. I know what being cooped up in this house must be like. But we can't just go advertising for minions…and plus, I don't trust Xander. You know that."

Warren's eyes deceived Jonathan for just a moment. He wanted to believe Warren had the best sense and interest for the group. Correction, that was necessary to believe. And, for just a moment, he could see in Warren's eyes those same things that Andrew saw.

Jonathan couldn't believe that he heard himself apologizing. "I'm…I'm sorry Warren. I shouldn't have…It's just…"

Warren's voice hit a level defining whispers. "It's okay. It's okay. Now, just start from the beginning. We only want to know what happened so we can be prepared for next time."

Of course, the tone back across town was far less seductive than Warren's voice. Xander's voice shouted over the telephone in the converted office. "But where is he?"

"We're sorry, Mr. Harris. Mr. Dalthers is unavailable. Would you like to leave a message?" She had that nasally secretary voice. It wasn't as pleasant sounding as the trio of nitwits that had tried getting in Xander's pants each time they came to the mansion. It didn't help matters that Xander was missing Angel, or even Riley-if it came to that. Xander had tried distracting those three with orders to find jobs that would provide them pay checks. Clive had been only too willing to volunteer his banking mortgage offices.

Xander sighed. "That won't be necessary. Just let him know I called." The phone felt the force of the receiver with a jolt. Xander fumed. That was the second time someone had cancelled an appointment with him. But this felt different.

"If I may…" Charlie was standing far off, which was quite normal considering the fact that Eldridge had almost killed him and Xander hadn't stopped it.

"What." Xander's eyes flipped up.

"Clive hasn't been seen in three days." Xander glanced through his hands at Charlie.

"Meaning…"

Charlie moved back towards the safety of the bookshelf, using his duster with a level of defensive movement. "Come on, Eldridge. You've been on the hellmouth long enough to know what that means."

Xander sighed. "I'll have to tell Giles then."

"Wouldn't it be better to tell Elvin first? After all, he should know what to expect."

"And you don't want to know?"

"I don't think so. Not after your reaction last night."

"Listen, Charlie…"

Charlie sighed. "Please don't. I don't want to hear bullshit about strain or the darker side of being a vampire. That doesn't matter to me. What matters to me is that this wasn't what either of us signed up for. Whatever I was looking for, I'm not sure I can find it here. But I can't leave yet."

"Who said I was asking you to leave?"

"You don't have to. That's the beautiful part of being your childe. I always know. I suspect you know the same of your sire. Good night, Eldridge."

Charlie walked out silently, a sort of resigned limp to his step. Xander watched him go, words hanging in mid-air. The sire left the office behind the childe by the few minutes, but it was long enough for Charlie to get lost in the marble pantheons of the old mansion.

The haunted feeling didn't last long. Xander could hear classical music infiltrating the spooky solitude of the walls and the eerie echoes etched upon the floor. When was the last time he had watched Elvin paint? Tonight, Elvin was painting some sort of man, tinted in a dark red light with a white aura. His hair was dark and his body was gorgeous. Even without the eyes and just a shadow of an outline, Xander knew the man well.

"You shouldn't stare like that." Elvin was mixing a bit of cream in with a dark shade of burgundy.

"I couldn't help it. May I come in?"

Elvin shrugged. "This is your house."

Xander sat down in a comfy chair behind Elvin. "Technically it's not."

"I know. If it were, it wouldn't be so cold." A few beats later, Xander was distracted. The way drops of paint brushed against the inside of his left hand was even seductive. Dew drops of paint clung to certain spots in his caramel brown hair. He couldn't have been sexier if he were shirtless. Then he spoke again.

"Charlie told me what happened last night."

"Are you concerned for your own safety?"

Elvin shrugged. "I knew what I was doing when I signed on for this cruise."

The painting was starting to come together and the body was taking an eerily recognizable shape. "Elvin…who is that you're painting?"

"I don't know. I saw him in a dream. I could only make out his bond companion, but it was clearer that he was the most attractive of the pair. The other image was much clearer. But I didn't like the blonde man as much as he." Elvin turned and looked down at Xander. "Why? Know who he is?"


	15. Chapter 15

He hated the sight of the black Magic Box door. Or, more precisely, he wanted to hate it. Xander had a very hard time hating much of anything, save Angelus and his dearly departed father. But, even then, he missed Angelus some days. There was almost always some form of perverse pleasure you could count on there.

Several times, Xander tried to move his feet with effort. Even thought he'd never weighed less or been able to move faster than now, his feet felt like they were filled with lead. Truth be told, he wasn't keen on encountering the slayer, the watcher or the witches. He didn't want to deal with any of them right now. But, as with much on the Hellmouth, choices were few and far between.

Taking a deep breath, Xander entered the abandoned shop, using the key over the threshold after disabling the spell. He was greeted by a painful silence. There was no life to the place, just a void in the fount of knowledge. There was a large earthen book lying open on the table. Xander moved toward it, feeling the need to satiate his own curiosity.

He hadn't the time to flip to any of the pages. As the book opened, the door resounded open with a booming slam. Buffy, clearly in a huff, stormed in. Willow and Tara followed in her wake, Tara posing as the support system for Willow.

"Girls?"

"Get out. You don't belong here." Buffy snarled in a rage that Xander was somewhat used to after a lost battle. "Did you here me?"

Xander moved past a battle-worn Buffy, whose double-sided weapon was currently being heaved onto the table next to the book as lights began to flick on all around the room. The blood on the axe wasn't anywhere near as much as Tara was holding against Willow's side.

"She won't let me heal her." There was a frightened gasp coming from Tara that she herself was not acquainted with.

"Willow, Hon, what happened?" Xander took her face into his hands. She was angry, forces bubbling from beneath her eyes. Willow was not trying to control her magic at all.

"Don't touch me! I don't need your help." A slight breeze ripped across Xander's skin and he moved backwards.

"Okay, okay. Does someone want to let me know what happened?"

"Why? So you can go make that thing stronger?" Buffy's somewhat hysterical voice was not assisting in any capacity.

"Doesn't look like it needed much help there." Xander wasn't sorry that he had said it. But he turned towards Buffy anyways. "What was it?"

"We don't know, okay? And letting Giles leave for England was a mistake."

"Giles is gone?" Xander gasped. Without the Watcher for protection, the Hell mouth could swiftly lose control without someone to level Buffy's penchant for stake first and ask questions later.

Buffy moved inches from Xander's face. "So help me, if you're planning something…"

Xander's face wrinkled with questions. "Buffy, why would I want to hurt you? Did it ever occur to you that I might be trying to, I don't know, help?"

Willow collapsed against Tara's side and Xander moved quickly. He laid Willow gently on the counter and then picked up the bloody weapon from the table and threw it against the weapons locker. For a moment, he hesitated in moving Willow. But she was moaning and moving about too much. She was liable to fall and further injure herself.

Xander leaned over Willow. "You have to let Tara heal you." He opened his eyes wide, conveying the unspoken important to Willow.

"No!" She screamed. "Magick got us into this mess and I won't use it again!"

"Listen to me Wills, you have to let her heal you. You've lost a lot of blood."

"Getting hungry?" Buffy's voice echoed from far past his shoulder. There was a dull thud that indicated a book was flying in the general direction of a nearby table. Buffy, in a slight panic, was turning to research.

"Shut up, Buffy!" Xander snarled. "This isn't about you."

"Then what is it about?" Buffy looked over the railing in a huff.

"Willow." Tara and Xander spoke at the same time.

"I trust you." Tara looked deep into Xander's eyes. Xander gulped, breaking his gaze after a moment and nodding.

"Willow, you need to look at me! I need to know what you saw!"

"No! I won't. I…." Xander held her head steady in his hands, gazes meeting. She was frightened and Xander didn't blame her. He had to know what they were facing. So Xander Harris performed a vampiric soul-gaze as Tara prepared a salve to coax the poison from the wound and give her time to rummage for spell ingredients.

Xander could feel the warmth in the wind. It was slightly disconcerting watching the fight as a ghost. Most moments of trauma, he had learned from Angel's books, are the easiest pinpoints of soul gazing. They can draw the talented gazer much like a torch or lighthouse. And that was happening all the way down the board.

The scene was eerily familiar to Xander. The musty warehouse type place that needed a good dusting. Buffy blindly stumbling into battle without tactic, something she was getting better at but still lacked the finesse of a soldier's mind. Willow shooting something deep blue from her fingertips.

The animal's eyes were nightmarish. Xander couldn't tell if it was a scorpion or just a thing with wildly sharp tentacles. It didn't matter. But as it moved across the floor, seeming to suck the ground as it went, the angry appendage shook. It hovered momentarily before it took a swipe and almost missed Willow's ribs.

For all anyone knew, she hadn't yet been injured. It was then that Xander saw the place where there was a deep blue crystal stinger missing from its leg. Buffy hacked and chopped away at the animal with fervor. Her face turned all shades of red while Tara tried supporting Willow's weight and defending against the hellish beast. In its intensity and passion, the nightmare scorpion had destroyed the only path toward an exit. The trap was obvious, but there was no presence of one who had set it.

Xander had seen enough. There was a feeling of his head hitting the relief of air after too long at the bottom of a chlorinated pool. His ears were the first to come into focus, followed closely by a stinging sensation that ran down the length of his body. The scent of Tara's salve shook the rest of him awake.

"This isn't working." Tara's eyes moved from Willow's wound to Xander. Willow herself was no longer speaking or swaying around the table. Her face was growing a tinge of paleness that reminded Xander of someone who took a deep hit of toxin from snakebite. The question remained then if the stinger, which was conspicuously missing, was venomous.

"Where's the stinger?" Xander tried very hard not to shout.

Tara removed the soaked poultice, swiftly working to replace it as blood sifted onto a towel near the wound, not yet moving toward a trickle as the body worked hard to repair itself. The odor around the wound was becoming a foul sort of brownish smell. Despair replaced anger as Willow's eye began to fade into a dull slant of grey. "We had to remove it to create a fulcrum so we could get out before the structure collapsed."

"And the animal?"

"Gone. Just crashed straight through a wall. Any other questions, Captain Obvious?" Buffy slammed a book open on the adjacent table.

"This is not the time Buffy!"

"What? I'm not allowed to be slightly pissed off that Giles had to run off? The Council practically begging him to come after two years without so much as a thank you note for all our service keeping the hell mouth safe?"

Xander bared his fangs, allowing his helplessness to turn towards bitter rage. "Well, at least the old Buffy would have known not to just go into battle without doing a tiny bit of research first. What? Can't do it without your precious bear claw, Buffy?"

"Don't you dare start with me, Xander Harris, or whatever the hell you're calling yourself now! That thing was attacking students!" She pointed toward the door in a rage.

"Oh, there's something always attacking students Buffy. We live on a hell mouth." Xander's shoulders shook violently in a shrug.

Tara raised her voice against the skirmish, tension almost visibly evident. "Please. Will you two just calm down? We have more important things going on at the moment."

Xander turned back to Willow and Tara. "There's only one thing I can think of to do. If Buffy will keep doing research, I'll suck out as much of the infection as I can. Don't let me stop."

Tara shook her head. "No. I won't let you. We don't know anything about the creature. We've got no idea what the poison does. You could damage yourself in a way that…"

"Don't you think I know that, Tara? But I don't have a choice. In spite of the deceptions and the dark Magick and everything that the Hell mouth has still thrown at us, I love Willow. She's my sister and she would do the same for me. Don't try to stop me."

Tara bit down on her lip. "Okay. But don't let yourself drink more than you can handle." She looked down into Willow's face. "You're right about the Magick too."

Xander nodded. "I know." His tone was calmer now as he reached down, taking Tara's hand. "But all we can do now is to learn and grow. This is the kind of mistake that you can only move on from."

Tara smiled weakly. "You haven't changed much."

Xander shrugged. "I am who I am. That's the bottom line, I guess."

Tara hesitated for a moment before joining Buffy, who was ripping through pages like she had wanted to do to that monster. Xander ignored the words under her breath about how lucky Dawn was to be out of town for the moment. Of course, Xander didn't really have time to roll his eyes. The noxious odor was moving swiftly from the wound out into the air.

The taste of the poison was of salt and sulfuric acid. It was spicy and deadly, a deep shade of blue and grey. The monster itself made a clean wound, a hole deep set into itself. As far as Xander could tell, it pierced the ribs but there was no internal organ damage. He hated drinking from Willow.

The wound began to grow smaller as Xander digested the poison. He could feel himself growing woozy and his body growling at him to stop. But he wouldn't. Feeling and warmth was beginning to move around Willow's body again. The hell mouth had spat another monster in their direction. But was Angelus responsible? Further, why was Xander's entire body going numb? The distinct impression of floor hit his body as he crashed to the ground, sick from a poison of hell.


	16. Chapter 16

"You're just going to let him win, aren't you?" The words seemed like a whisper in his mind. There was no telling where they had come from. Angel's voice just seemed to resonate through Xander's mind with a sort of bound determination that annoyed him.

He was tired. That was the easy way to put it. He was tired and he missed Angel. He missed Angel and Willow and even, God help him, Buffy. Then Xander thought of Giles and got a little angry. He wanted to throw something_**. Stupid Watcher**_, Xander bellowed and ranted in his mind, _how could he just leave and not give Buffy some sort of precautionary measure or device or something! Is the man __**insane**__?_

The boiling over with rage didn't help Xander's sleep any. He did want to sleep very badly though, even though that might have been the poison talking. But Angel's voice just wouldn't take leave from his head. It wasn't the normal Angel voice. After all, Angel didn't normally bother with challenging Xander in that way. There was just something different from it, as though he expected more from his childe. Xander mused briefly that that must have been part of the package deal. Being one of Angel's childes was no picnic whatsoever.

Then it occurred to Xander that he was floating and he hated the idea that he was out of control. Normally, hovering was limited to reading more than one research book, or as a fighting technique, at a time. He found it easy to start with one page and then have the other book suspended, so he could jump and read without interruption or hesitation. This floating while trying to sleep thing annoyed him quite frankly.

Xander huffed as he folded his arms, responding to Angel's voice while his eyes remained closed. "Did I say that I was?"

"I would say that's what it looks like to me. Now how about some warm blood?"

To a part of Xander, that kind of invitation still sounded more than vaguely icky. But there was another part of him that rumbled when invited to partake in blood. He was hungry and felt as though it was to the point of emaciation. No wonder Angel was suspicious; it almost felt to Xander as though he hadn't been taking proper care of himself.

Xander realized as his eyes creaked open that he was hovering over his own bed wearing nothing but a pair of splattered jeans. This didn't bother him as much as Angel's presence being very close. "What are you doing here? Aren't you busy in LA?"

Angel held out the mug as Xander hovered at an incline, pouring himself into the adjacent chair as Angel sat behind the desk. "I'm never too busy for one of my childes."

Xander scoffed and Angel raised his eyebrow. "What?"

"Never too busy. Come on Angel, just look at what I've inherited."

Angel watched the sweep of Xander's arm and blinked nonchalantly. "No one asked you to take possession of the Order. You made that choice."

Xander's brow furrowed, possibly with the anger that danced on his voice. "You just wanted to abandon these people? Leave them to the devices of the Hellmouth?"

"And why care so much? Isn't a person's life about the choices he makes within it?"

"That's not the point, sire. The point is that you've abandoned…"

Angel shook his head. "I abandoned the life that Angelus created in a hope that it would die with him. If you're going to take leadership, you have to realize that my demon's ambitions never leapt beyond the realm of pleasure. That's why we've been at odds so often."

Xander digested Angel's words. "You **want** me to take leadership."

"Not like you've given me much choice. Why didn't you tell me? We should have discussed it first."

"As foolish as it sounds, I wanted to surprise you with it as a gift."

"You didn't have to do that. The most foolish thing I've seen though is you not taking care of yourself first."

"What do you mean?"

"Do I have to force you to drink your blood?" Angel's hand pointed to Xander, who was absentmindedly caressing the handle of the blank white mug.

"I'm not that hungry. More concerned than anything."

"But you have to eat."

"Are you going to force me to slow down?" Xander's voice was tense.

Angel shook his head once more and sighed. His fingers reached across the table and Xander could feel the desire in his sire's aura pressing against his skin. It sent charges of static throughout his face and shivers down his body. "Xander, look to your right."

Xander's chair nearly fell over as he glanced in the mirror. He turned back to Angel with startled eyes and began to shiver, though it was not out of cold. "It's not possible."

Angel's hand moved away as the sire began to relax in his seat. "One thing you will learn is that anything is possible in this world, Xander. Now do you understand why you need to eat and to keep your strength up? Don't punish yourself for things beyond your control."

"And what else am I supposed to do? The Watcher gone, My **deal** with Jonathan skidding for the rocks, Members of the Order disappearing that are key to my plans?" Xander was clearly exasperated, on the edge. His arms shot upward and he caught a glance of his feral claws. Embarrassed, he shoved his claws out of his Sire's sight.

Angel moved quickly, his hands grabbing around Xander as he held him. Angel whispered deeply into his ear. "Stop taking on the world. You can't win doing that. Just be the change you want to see."

"Nothing is that simple." Xander whispered as he melted back into Angel's coolness.

"Why does it have to be more difficult? The Powers That Be know what they are doing Xander. They wouldn't have let you become a vampire otherwise. Further, they wouldn't have let you become my childe if they didn't understand us and what we could handle."

"And what about now?" Xander's voice broke.

"Now is time for you to choose. Choose whether you want to win and remain the boy that disdained me who became the man I turned or let Eldridge win and reek havoc, take over Sunnydale, and destroy the goodness and the elevated plans within your own soul."

Angel continued on as Xander stared blankly at the mirror, Angel's arm holding him steady, keeping him from tears. "I didn't win and I don't always win. It's just that simple. But the act of trying gives you purpose and gives you a redemption that you're not blessed enough to need yet, my grey knight."

"Why would you call me that?"

"I call you that because I believe in you, Xander. Even in your imperfections there is beauty because of your simple purpose. You were right about me when Buffy and I first met. You were right about the hazards and the danger that unfolded. You did not waiver, but when it came time to evolve, you invited it in. That is why I trust you and love you. Because you understand that great minds have purposes, little minds have no chance of evolution."

Xander gulped. "You…you **love** me?"

Angel smiled, turning his childe from the mirror. "Would I do this if I didn't?"

Xander was at a loss for words as Angel's fangs sunk into his skin. There was a feeling, a bond, between a sire and a childe that was rarely found anywhere in nature and surely found nowhere in the darkness that vampires supposedly possessed in abundance. Xander felt Angel's bicep snuggle into his chest. His body raged and quelled with desire. This was better than most sexual acts and far more erotic. Xander watched the drip of blood fall and splash quietly on his cuff. The scent of Angel, the scent of the vampire he had fallen for, hung on the air. And it didn't frighten him at all.

The world turned a deep shade of red, but still Angel was close. Xander's eyes closed and he could hear the throbbing of blood moving through his ears and his system. Another sound came and went briefly before his eyes were flooded with a bright light. He jumped as he realized Angel was now gone.

He couldn't find a reserve of anger in his body and Xander wasn't sure how to react to that, and to the disappointment of having the one he loved so close and yet so mysteriously far. Charlie spoke first. "I wasn't sure you were going to wake up."

"Where…Where is Angel?"

"He's in Los Angeles still. Tara performed a distance ritual to bring the pair of you together. He's fighting some sort of monstrous Catholic priest and they had to hold him back from the door to keep him from running all the way back here to Sunnydale."

Xander's face and body fell. "It was just a dream."

Charlie shook his head. "Oh no. It was much more than that. And there's one more thing. But I don't want to do it until you have the strength for it."

"What do you mean?"

"No. Not until you have the strength for it."

Xander ripped the sheet away from his body, examining his skin for signs of disease or scarring before moving. "I have the strength," he hissed.

Charlie shook his head. "Follow me then. To the library."

The walk around the mansion was long and silent. Shadows swallowed candlelight and the scent of smoke filled the air. Charlie apologized and blamed a freak rolling black out for the despair and gloom filling the doorways.

The sound of Elvin's records make screeching noises in the air that turned Xander a pale shade of melon. "Something's not right."

"You don't have to do this."

Xander shook his head and then smiled weakly at Charlie's concern. "I do have to. There is no alternative."

Shrugging off Charlie's body as a crutch, Xander entered the room and his vision went red again. That same canvas had been finished, but Elvin was not in the room. At least, his body wasn't. His scent was prevalent as well as the signs of a struggle. Plaster crumbled and intertwined with the books and dust. There was evidence of an altercation of sorts. And there was something extra added to the painting.

"Before they dusted him, they removed his unbeating heart. He is that painting now Xander."

"Who did this? What did you see?" Xander spun and Charlie shook his head.

"Nothing Xander. Nothing but darkness and a pair of feral eyes."


	17. Chapter 17

The young man wasn't quite sitting in the dark, but Giles was startled by his presence nonetheless. He was quiet and about the same age as Buffy. In many ways, Giles was reminded of young Mr. Osbourne. There was something musical to the way the boy turned the page as he sat. He didn't exactly seem bored either. Giles was sure that working for the Watchers' Council must be overwhelmingly exciting. He honestly couldn't remember back that far, and even when he could, he only remembered scullery duties-which were not the most pleasant of things.

Rupert cleared his throat and the boy's head didn't even rise. His hair was a lighter shade than Daniel's but was almost reminiscent of that short look Oz had perfected. Giles tried again. "Excuse me."

That did startle the boy. His eyes were incredibly sharp, an almost clear quality of reflection that caused Giles to move back half a step. The boy twitched, looking around nervously from the corner of his eyes. No, Rupert's steps coming down the cement walkway hadn't terrified him, nor did the noise the code produced in the vault or the echo on the way down. Seeing Rupert Giles had terrified the boy and Giles tried his best to put him at east. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"Quite alright. You get used to it down here. I tune out more than is healthy for my own good." His cheeks were drawn on the verge of being emaciated.

"Are you here by yourself?"

"And why shouldn't I be?" The young man blinked, as if asking Rupert to challenge his ability to keep the library in order.

"It's not that…It's just…well, the library's usually quite busy. It's quite unusual for Alexandria's sister to not be a Hub of activity for the necessity of archaic knowledge."

Dane, for that was the young man's name, nodded his head with approval. "That's true. But they do trust me. Now, you must be Mr. Rupert Giles." Dane looked down at an index card on the table. "The council sent for you."

"Yes, but they gave no firm reason. Might I enquire as to if they told you anything?"

Dane shook his head as Rupert arched his eyebrow. "I'm afraid all I can tell you is that my instructions were to find several volumes for you. The council has asked for your help and expertise in mystical research."

Giles removed his glasses and began cleaning. "It's quite strange, all of it. But, they've asked for my help and I've come all this way so I might as well co-operate until we've established a goal."

Dane shook his head. "Probably the best course of action for all involved. Come, we're walking past the section on chiwara."

"Mythical gods of Mali? Did Glory send a twin to England or South Africa?"

Dane shook his head. "Mine is not as to why, by mine is to do and die."

Rupert followed the boy, crossing the desk. "Lord Tennyson, very good."

Dane's head turned as they walked down the low-lit hallways, the echoes of a cathedral moving with their steps. "I do try my best."

For the fact it was a built-in underground cavern, the Watchers' Council Library was better kept than its guarded cousin in Alexandria. Of course, the first base had been on Atlantis and that had been a tragic loss, but the magi had salvaged as much as was possible. The volumes here would have fit into the Magic Box essentially thirty more times than what Giles possessed to read or take the time inclined thereof.

Rupert broke the silence as they walked. "So, how did you become the intern here?"

Dane stopped to check the posted list of subjects down the next turn in the corridor. "Quite tragic really. I was a juvenile delinquent that grew into the wrong sort of crowd and coupled with a unchanneled angsty type of magic. They found me in a corrections cell awaiting prosecution for arson and destruction of school property. They promised me..."

Rupert knew how to finish the story. "Of course, they promised you control over your powers and your destiny." Giles sighed with knowing effect.

Dane nodded in admittance of guilt. "It all sounded so...pretty."

Giles' words verged on suspicious. "They taught you how to control your powers instead of just using them for their own benefit? That seems odd. Most likely just as queer as the nirvana they must have offered you. Generally the council abhors employing the dimensionally-gifted."

Dane stopped, facing Giles. "You sound just like them. My mentor fought hard to get me a post and I was damned proud of Mr. Rayne for sticking up for me. Best to not bring it up though."

They turned a few more times, the welcomed silence breaking the tension of which Rupert did not wish to speak. It was red leather edition that Dane held out to Giles. Rupert opened the book inquisitively. The corners of the book were gilded triangles of gold with two spikes released from the side. Almost immediately, Rupert felt something odd coursing through him. The words, written in green, began to bleed and blur into his skin. He wasn't sure how to feel, but he knew as he dropped to his knees that this was probably a trap.

There was darkness and how it swallowed Rupert made him feel just the more uncomfortable. It was a heavy and exhausting thing that clouded judgement and memory all ways that he turned. Giles couldn't feel himself on the floor of the library, nor remember in some moments that it was the library that he had indeed passed out in. All that he knew was that this was more sinister than kind.

There was a sharp tap on his shoulder and Rupert awakened from his stupor, incredibly startled. "What happened?"

"You fainted." A look of worry had crossed Dane's darkened face.

"What's happened to the lights?" Giles talked as though a lack of light were an after-expression of thought.

"It's all my fault. They found out you were here. You, you must go Mr. Giles. If we're to survive this, you must go!"

"Survive what? What's happened."

"It's all my fault, however I'll have to explain later. There's this pub three blocks away known as the Missions Hog Pub. I'll meet you there and answer you as best as I can." Giles wasn't sure whether to trust Dane or not, but his emotions were a great exhibition of talent if they were a lie.

Giles had trouble walking, but managed to avoid showing this to Dane as they moved through the stacks towards a cleverly-concealed back exit. Judging by the smell as the panel opened, Rupert assumed it led back through the sewer systems. "Remember," Dane stressed as he checked over his shoulder from fear, "the Missions Hog Pub. If I'm not there within half an hour, then make it back to your Slayer and prepare her for an Armageddon like she's not seen yet."

Giles turned for one last breath before entering the reeking exit. "I don't even know your name."

Dane's face turned impatient. "Dane; Dane Evers. Now, go!"

The trudge and the ensuing wait at the Missions Hog Pub drove Giles nearly mad. Still recovering from an incident that was quite cloudy in his mind, his jangled nerves were not helped by the less than clear situation. So when Dane plopped down eagerly in front of him with a furrowed brow, he was more than a bit nervous and worried.

"Tell me what's happened."

Dane began his story. "There was a war between the Templar and the Council. They obliterated so many Watchers and Slayers, so very quickly. They only missed you, Mr. Giles, and Ms. Summers because of your falling out with the Council." Dane leaned forward, almost in reverence and half in whispering secret. "I learned of you from an old Council minutes meeting I tucked into my trousers."

"But how did you escape?"

"I didn't, not completely. My magic gave me a split moment more to secure the library. I promised Ethan that I would only do it in emergencies, but even then…" Dane sat back, the oppression over his heart quite evident. "If I may, I'd like to abstain from that story for awhile."

"I understand. I think now might be a good time for a pint and a solid meal before we plan a course of action."

Dane's eyes sparked. "So you'll help me, Mr. Giles?"

Giles nodded solemnly. "Of course I will. I may not always have agreed with the Council, but they are integral in keeping the system of Watchers and Slayers both balanced and under constant scrunity. I can only envision the further chaos in the world without them. The only problem is getting back to America to rally the troops."

Dane's face fell. "You'll have to go back?"

Giles nodded. "Right away. You don't expect to wage a war without a Slayer, do you?"

Dane returned the nod. "So, I'm to come with you?"

"I wouldn't expect it any other way." Rupert looked into Dane's expectant eyes. They reminded him in some ways of that first year, that first assignment, when everything was new and his optimism was at his peak. Years before Buffy and after Ethan. Giles could barely remember that feeling. But he knew it was there…somewhere.


	18. Chapter 18

Xander could easily be accused of being paranoid and, really, that was fine if you wanted to throw the adjective in his direction. What else was one supposed to become living over a portal to Hell and being attacked by demons on a daily basis until one actually became entwined inside him? Granted, that wasn't completely his fault. If only Angel hadn't been so attractive, seductive…Xander shook himself in his chair as he read absentmindedly. Why was he thinking of Angel?

That scent. It moved through the house, faintly of Angel, reminding Xander of the footfalls from that famous poem by Poe. He was as surprised as anyone that he could recall any famous work of poetry. Still, the G-man had a way of making certain things grow on you until they stuck. For Xander, creepy gothic American poets was one of them. Angel's scent was on everything, even if it did qualify as stale and forlorn. Xander didn't mind the memories. But there was something different about this, it was mixed somehow.

What worried Xander as he leapt from his chair and over the desk was that this person was walking around in a way that reminded him of pacing. He wasn't sure how they had gotten in and he would have assumed that with Giles back, Buffy's patrols would have gotten smarter. After all, Xander himself had risked the peril of bad Slayer attitude by actually interrupting a meeting. He did try to justify himself by saying that it could be nothing. But who exactly did the young vampire think he was fooling?

He understood as Xander slid around the corner, bangs over his forehead momentarily reaching the window before he did. It was midnight, closer to eleven than one. The moon shone over all the earth, bathing its sadistic glow over the shadows. That particular window in the mansion faced an assortment of mausoleums and the factory district beyond. One of those nondescript buildings held the entrance way to Angel's first apartment in the city, and any last misgivings that the Scooby gang had ever had that the world was indeed flat.

Buffy was standing with her back to the stairs and the doors. She hadn't even bothered to put her key back in her bag. It glimmered harshly in the light before she dropped it through her stoic fingers. Buffy's hair was mostly as perfect as it had always been and her outfit was stylish, if not slightly gothic meets Army man. So everything on the outside was usual, or so it seemed.

Xander gulped. He could smell something so off that the entire world seemed to tilt around the Slayer. If this was something so much larger than her enough to impact in this way then Xander definently had license to be freaked. "Buffy." He couldn't think of anything wittier to say.

At first, she didn't turn, almost as though she wished to be attacked.. Her neck moved swiftly, acknowledging Xander and then turning back toward the window. It was a move that could really only be experienced by someone like a vampire. Xander coughed and still gained no real recognition. "So, Buffy…nice to see you in the neighborhood. I know that patrolling's kind of tough recently and you have your choice of windows in semi-abandoned mansions and Angel would like to thank you for choosing…"

Xander was startled by Buffy's lunge. He felt his leg automatically move to a defensive stance in response. He carried a small array of hidden weapons, he was a rambler, not a fool, but none of them were sincerely quick enough to reach if the Slayer attacked. The dark-haired knight relied on a thin truce between himself and Buffy for protection. But she wasn't fighting him. Buffy Anne Summers was kissing Xander Harris, melting and pushing her lips into his.

His first reaction was to enjoy the kiss, after all, he may have been dead but he was still a relatively young guy. But something about the scenario was off. Her hands were pressing into Xander's back. He could feel the indents and trying to hiss between breaths as her thumbs left bruises that would quickly heal.

Xander almost had to rip himself away. "Ummm…thank you? Might I ask why you've chosen such a date to fulfill a curiousity of mine?"

Buffy stared at him, barely registering his words. Her eyes were slate blank and Xander's confidence in the Slayer was beginning to wane heavy. What had happened? Futher, why hadn't Spike brought her or Willow called to notify him. Even Giles would inform him of his duty if things seemed so awry. He'd probably never have heard the end of it from Dawn, come to think of it.

"I just thought since you were taking Angel's life that maybe you could want me too."

Xander cocked his head and scratched the itch forming on the back of his inner fang. He furrowed his brow. "You wanna back up the exit time there a few minutes and let me grab a seat on this crazy train?"

Buffy filled the space between vampire and Slayer. "But I thought you always wanted me, wanted this strength…this body…" Was this a dream or was Buffy really starting to remove her jacket and possibly other articles of clothing? This really had to end before it got out of hand. A small part of Xander died in the ensuing internal protest.

He turned from Buffy to sigh. "A year ago I could have so easily said yes. I would have dropped Anya for you. Hell Cordy meant nothing to me if I would have thought you'd eventually come to your senses." Her hand came across his chest, caressing it. "But not like this, never like this again."

Buffy's head dropped as though she had just been shot. "Alright then. I'll just go."

Xander rushed to the door as she marched towards the exit. "Oh no you don't. I want to know what's going on. Trouble between you and Blonde Ambition?"

Buffy's eyes dimmed once again. "Nothing could happen between Spike and I."

"Then what is it? I'm still your friend Buffy."

"Yes! Yes you are!" Buffy began moving around the foyer frantically until she finally lit in the silent library on the edge of a couch. "You, the teenager who turned vampire! Willow, that sweet techie who I turned into a lesbian witch with a werewolf ex-boyfriend! That's not even to mention the men I've dated. One who can destroy the world when I have sex with him. A drug-hyped Army sergeant that was part of an Initiative resistance, a sado-masichist….God, the list just goes on an on!"

Xander nodded. "Well, ranting's good! It's better than staring off into space."

Buffy jumped up again and Xander followed her as she turned back towards the open bay window. "I've killed you all and so many like you. How many have to pay the ultimate price for me?"

Xander grabbed for Buffy's arms, turning her to face him across the moonlight. His worry was now beyond rational. "Do you hear yourself? Sounding like you control our thoughts and our decisions. You were born to this and Willow and I decided independently of you that this was the right thing for us. Would you have rather someone else fight by your side, or no one at all? I didn't let you die that night at the Master's side and I won't have let it be just so you can throw a pity party for the rest of us." Xander could feel the passion flowing through his veins, he was pretty sure demon face was showing.

"Giles was found dead this morning in his bathroom. The cause was just…unknown."

"Oh God, Buffy…" She melted into his body as the stunned Xander held her. Then her remembered that first and foremost Buffy had never been about the Slayer. She had been about the protecting of innoncent lives, her trust, her friends, the normalcy of the rest of the world. She had never thought, Xander was certain, that Giles would ever die. She could protect him. Then Buffy spoke again. "And I came home and found Mom on the couch. She had some sort of heart attack."

"Joyce." Xander uttered her name like a whisper and the anger resurged as he held Buffy closer. That was unfair of the universe, so incredibly and angrily unfair. The task before her was beyond bizarre and gargantuan. Every happy and trusting, shiny moment for Buffy was being melted away like that Greek guy punished for all eternity to roll the ball into the sun. Xander wanted to kiss Buffy in return, to tell her all would be alright, but he realized that it could never be.

Then Xander thought again. "Does Willow know?"

Buffy's head moved from being sunken into his chest. "Oh God…I didn't think…Will.."

He spoke in calm tones. "It's okay. I'll call her and ask her to come over. This is not phone news. I think Spike would be more than happy to look after Dawn long enough for us to try and pull ourselves together."

Buffy tried a laugh. "Do you think Spike can hold it together?"

"I don't know. I don't know if any of us can. The main thing is to be strong. We'll all be strong for each other, okay?"

Buffy sank back down into his chest while a nagging feel moved through Xander's head. Why had she come to him first?


	19. Chapter 19

"You can't help but think that Xander! You're biased." Jonathan flumped back into his armchair. The fireplace in the background of the library was lit to an almost roar. Xander could remember the last time the fire had been piled that high. In the corner of his eye, the young vampire could see the reflection of Angel's body, shadows of red and black dancing with his pale muscles as they moved through the shadows. This time, however, lamps were burning brightly in the library.

It was with that memory that Xander's patience frayed a little more than it should have. "And you aren't trying."

"I am so," Jonathan's voice hit levels normally reserved for Warren when Andrew was giving him those worshipful puppy dog eyes.

Xander shook his head, sighing as his tongue scratched that little area behind his left fang. A small part of his brain accessed a very vivid memory of a certain "celebrity" in the time during high school. Someone who can access that kind of wish wasn't destined to have merely pedestrian magick. "Oh, don't start that kind of business with me, mister. You can't possibly win."

"What do you suggest I do?"

Xander's gaze turned upwards as he sighed. "Go home and talk with Warren."

"No!" Xander smiled internally at Jonathan's responsive outburst while leaving a dead poker face out in front. "I mean, he wouldn't think this was..."

"Useful? Current? A part of the Hellmouth?"

"That sounds about right." Jonathan deflated a little more. Xander knew that a key to good magick was confidence, whereas the first wish or spell that Jonathan had incurred was of desperation with a lack of care for consequences. Truth was, Xander saw a lot of Jonathan in the way he had been before, even before Buffy had came and his entire Cheeto-dust linked world had been torn apart and revamped by the Powers. When life had been simpler and he had neither been in love with nor been a vampire. Xander suspected the same fondness for the past resonated with Jonathan.

"Let's go back then. You know the first rule of this house."

Jonathan chanted the mantra dully. "Failure is not an option. Jesus, Xander, couldn't you have at least tried to think of something more original? Maybe...I shall not go silently into that sweet goodnight?"

Xander blinked in return. "Do I look like that kind of vampire, Jonathan?"

"No. I guess not."

"Right. So if failure is not an option, then what?"

"Then research until your eyes bleed."

"Or other body parts, whatever." It was Xander's turn to lean back in his chair, as he casually waved off thoughts of other bleeding orifices with a wave of his hand. For a brief moment, sorrow wrenched his gut as he thought of Giles. Giles had been an inspiration while Xander had quietly observed his second father. He had soaked in the lessons through the triumphs and the difficulties. He had even learned to admire Ripper when Giles would acknowledge or open up about that segment of his past.

Xander's thoughts wandered while Jonathan tried to focus once again. The vampire predicted that it would be two more tries before the amateur witch went slightly hysterical and he would deal with that when it came time. Mentally, Xander ticked through the list of plans left for Giles' wake. Wesley, Angel, and Faith all wanted to at least be in town for the ceremony. Giles didn't have a current will and so most of preparation had fallen to Willow, to keep her mind off of things. Unfortunately, coming down from a magickal high intertwined with his death left her in a bad place. So Xander, much to anyone and yet no one's surprise, volunteered for the job. After all, he had quipped to the gang, what better place to host a wake than a mansion?

The phone rang and Xander picked up Charlie walking toward the newly-installed kitchen phone at a brisk pace. His footfalls were light, disturbingly more so than most vampire childes. He could have an amazing future if he were to leave my shadow, Xander thought. What mystified the sire was that his hold over his child was so strong. There was no real reasoning for it, Xander thought.

Charlie floated onto the second level of the library and looked down at the table where Jonathan and Xander were drawn up to. "Willow's on the phone."

Xander shook his head. "Tell her that we'll call her back. Did she say what she needed?"

"It's in reference to Giles."

"What does the librarian want?" Jonathan was still staring down the barrel of his ingredients.

Charlie grimaced at the lack of feeling in Jonathan's voice. Then he hit Xander with one of those blank gazes. It was clear that the childe despised keeping this secret. However, the sire felt that it was for the good of all parties involved. Buffy's second father was dead based on mysterious circumstances and Xander himself had sent several representatives to guard the Englishman's house until a full inquiry had been made.

Once Tara had gotten Willow down from her fury, she would tour the house with the last person to see Giles alive. The prospect of this was dubious to most parties involved. The Scoobies were not a trusting group, especially when the member that gave Buffy the most strength was gone. As far as activity on the Hellmouth, now was not a good time to be engaging in anything of world-ending scale.

With the death of Giles, Buffy had revereted to her angry Slayer phase, such as the portion of time after Angel had lost his soul. A slayer scorned, Xander thought bemused, is a force to be reckoned with. Xander raised an invisible glass to Giles, whom he was sure was watching with displeasure with Jenny by his side. Jonathan broke into the thoughts. "Do you think Giles would know how to help me with this?"

Xander turned at the sound of Jonathan's voice. His eyes focusede on the soft pleading of the hunched form before him with so much potential. "No. His credo is more than enough help. Now come on, Jonathan, something must be bothering you."

"I'm not stalling..."

Xander tilted his head and smoothed his hair with his palms. After becoming a vampire, he now understood how hard it must have been for Angel to keep his hair the way it had been. "I didn't say you were. So why are you not stalling?"

Jonathan sighed for the umpteenth time. "Maybe I shouldn't be doing this. I mean, if Willow's not practicing anymore, does that make this too dangerous?"

"Willow took it too far too many times, Jonathan. We've been over this. Until she can trust herself to make good decisions and achieve a balance, the answer to her help is going to be a very strong no. And my suggestion is that you do not screw with the treaty lines, lest you feel the wrath of a very pissy Churchill."

"Okay, okay." Jonathan waved off the tail end of the speech. "Geez, Xan. You know, I liked you better when you were sleeping through history class, not using it as a basis for threats."

Xander shrugged. "Then try again."

"What am I doing wrong?"

Xander rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Now he understood why Giles wiped his glasses so many times. "Well, you have all your ingredients. You've researched the spells, the contexts, what can go wrong, and you're not doing this for ill gain. So, in theory, this should work."

"Theories are not a problem for me. Relativity, the Hodge conjecture, what women really want. But this...this is a spell Xander. This is serious."

Xander moved behind Jonathan at his own breakneck vampiric speed. He knew that he'd have to move fast and make Jonathan feel comfortable long before his mind had time to object. Truth be told, Xander could smell on Jonathan something akin to lust. Not quite that, but then again, he didn't have much experience in the arena of sensing emotions like lust.

"Okay, so we'll do this...together." He hissed the final word in Jonathan's ear.

"Xander..." If Jonathan hadn't been sitting, his legs might have turned to jello. Xander's bangs swept over Jonathan's cropped mane and the vampire forced the novice mage back into his chair before he could jump away. If Jonathan could only have a taste of what he was capable of, all Xander had to do was loose the floodgates.

"All you have to do is concentrate."

Jonathan was shaking. His head turned, eyes meeting feral eyes inches apart. His voice was quivering as much as his body was beginning to shiver. "I can't."

Xander snorted. "I don't waste my time anymore. Just face your problem. We'll work through it together."

Jonathan shook his head, but Xander wasn't taking no for an answer. Xander slid his hand along Jonathan's arm, gathering both hands over the ingredients and the objects on the table. His hand lay over Jonathan's hand, their bodies almost sandwiched next to each other. "Concentrate Jonathan."

Jonathan took a deep breath and closed his eyes. There was something instantly in the air, a palpable change. A vortex of static charge moved around the library, centering on Jonathan. Bumpy waves of slight power moved downward. His breathing changed, Xander could feel the scattering and regrouping of his heart rate. "Do it, Jonathan," Xander chanted, "Do it."

"Angies fuego masti." The words evaporated under Jonathan's tongue and his confidence followed soon after. He fell back into Xander, landing on earth a few moments later. In his wake, he had lit the candle with magick. There was something inside of him and Xander had saw him through the wall. Their bonds in some ways would never be broken.

Jonathan was just as surprised as Xander that he found himself hugging the vampire, pressing his flesh to his tutor. "I did it!"

Xander chuckled. "I knew you could. How do you feel?"

"Tired." Jonathan moved from the embrace. "I think I'd better get going."

"Do you need me to come with?" The conversation was moving towards the front door.

Jonathan thought and then shook his head. "No. I'm under your protection and I'm sure that's enough. It's just a big day tomorrow and I need to think things through."

"Oh?"

Jonathan nabbed his tan coat from the stand. "I'm really not supposed to say anything. Warren would kill me for talking, especially to you."

Xander crossed his arms. "You don't think you can trust me?"

"It's not that." Jonathan was too embarressed to admit that it was more a fear of Warren and Andrew's crazed worship than anything.

"I promise I won't say a word. Cross my fangs and hope to live." Xander cracked an irresistible smile.

Jonathan was already stepping into the pre-dawn air. "Alright, I'd recommend you stay indoors tomorrow. We're testing our invisibility ray."

"That volatile?"

Jonathan thought a moment. "More like that much of a disaster."


	20. Chapter 20

"What are you reading Jonathan?" Andrew craned his head while Jonathan tried to rapidly hide the book he was borrowing from one of the nemesis libraries.

"It's nothing. Just some practice spell theory."

Andrew shook his head. "That design didn't look like theory. Come to think of it, it didn't look like nothing either."

"I haven't given you a reason not to trust me, have I?"

"That kind of phrasing doesn't build confidence." Andrew shrugged.

"Hey, the party's in here." Warren poked his head through the doorway.

Andrew, always the lapdog, offered his synopsis. "Jonathan's hiding something. He had this book..."

"Do you have to tell him everything?"

Warren walked in past Andrew and lay his elbows down on Jonathan's desk amongst the mountain of books and strewn papers with scribbled signs and numbers abounding. "Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan. What are we going to do with you?"

Andrew raised his hand. "I know. Subject him to all three Star Wars films in re-release with those horrible extra scenes."

Warren didn't even bother to look back, staying his bearing upon Jonathan. "We didn't say there was punishment in this, did we? Although, all that fraternizing with the enemy does look a mite suspicious."

"There's nothing suspicious about it. Wasn't one of the great tacticians also a fan of keeping thine enemies closer?"

Warren smiled. "We're not talking about ancient societies. Nor is this in reference to any cultural isms that you might have picked up for refutary evidence. No, Jonathan, this is about loyalty. Xander's a threat to us, an ally if not an all-out attack dog for the Slayer."

Jonathan stood. "He's nothing like that!" Somewhere Xander smiled at being defended.

Warren shrugged. "I don't know. Things don't seem to have changed that much since high school."

Andrew piped in. "Yeah."

Warren gazed at Andrew, floating his hand so Andrew would know that he didn't need back-up. "The one thing that has changed is the kind of interest he's taken in you."

"Xander says he sees a lot of potential in me. And he's teaching me things...things that have benefited us all. The power of the invisibility ray for instance..."

"That experiment was a disaster."

"That's not true, Warren. There are many things we learn for the work of the war from the battles. One factor is stability of molecule. We wouldn't have learned about that save for the spectrum ray that turned the Slayer and Witch invisible. Besides, we can't just kill her."

"There are two problems I have with that statement. First, the existence of working from battle to war is not always proven effective. Secondly, you've got a soft spot for the Slayer now?!" Andrew's voice cracked slightly.

Jonathan sprang back a little in mock distaste. "No! What you see as weakness is actually research. If you look at this book Xander lifted for me from the Magic Box, you learn a lot about Slayer lore. Such as a continual wellspring of Slayer bodies. Buffy dies and we'll get another to deal with."

Warren sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You're missing the big picture here Jonathan."

"No, I'm not." Jonathan scrambled through his small stack and flipped quickly to a certain earmarked page. "If you'll just read this prophecy..."

"This isn't about prophecy!" Warren hit the desk with enough force to send a few things sliding. "This is about our organization, our plans, and the things you put in jeopardy! We can handle another Slayer if she's the best they have to throw at us. Hell, it took turning her invisible for Buffy to even know who we all were. Before she was just clueless muscle and another couldn't do any better."

Andrew pointed to the floor. "There's the book he was hiding." Jonathan scrambled and yet Warren's grasp got to the book first.

"What is this?" He turned a few pages in and then turned to Jonathan with an amused look. "You've been holding out on us."

"Now...now that's just not fair. This is my area of expertise after all! It wouldn't do you any good and besides Xander'll know if someone else has touched his book!"

"Well then, I don't think you'll mind if I borrow it since I've already opened it."

"Wait!" Andrew blocked the door, crossing his arms as Warren skimmed through the paragraphs and subject headings until a cry of glee warmed his tone. Jonathan collapsed in upon himself. "You'll never understand how to do whatever it is you've found!"

Warren looked back from the hallway, biting his thumbnail in Jonathan's direction. "Oh, I don't have to. I guess I was wrong about your loyalties after all."

Warren walked away, hearing Jonathan's cry as Andrew walked in tow. "Are you at least going to tell me what page you're on?"

It wasn't long before the embodiment of Jonathan in panic mode was almost quite literally flying around Xander's bedroom. Xander lay silently, waiting for the emotion to ebb. "I won't do it, I just won't do it! This wasn't what we were intended for, I simply can not do this in good conscience! Not that conscience really matters or possibly even if it exists in situations like these! Will you help me out here before I babble myself into nihilism?"

"First, you'll have to tell me what it is before I can comment on the situation."

"I mean, this goes beyond larceny, this could, wait, it is murder! I mean, if I thought Andrew would agree with me we could take him on but I can imagine Andrew's resolve face and how it would fall the moment Warren took a stand...."

"You've got to calm down before you pop a blood vessel and I get curious enough to want a taste of the babbling stream of Jonathan. Will you tell me what happened?"

"Ummm...you're going to be angry with me."

Xander chuckled, sitting up into a reclined position. "How can I be angry if you won't tell me exactly what is going on, Jonathan? I'm a vampire, not a psychic."

Jonathan closed his eyes and winced. "They got hold of the book."

Xander's reply made Jonathan's eyes pop open. "So, what's the problem? Andrew's studying to be a demon summoner, Warren's studying to handle alchemy, and you're studying spells. So, this is the only book of it's kind?"

"Warren had all the books in the house disguised by spell. In the wrong hands, they turn into Barbarella figurines and in the right hands the pages light up."

"Barbarella figurines, really?" Xander tried to contain his laughter.

"You're missing the big thing here Xander."

Xander sighed. "Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan. Did you think I'd just let you waltz back home with a book without information I wanted him to see in it?" Xander replied when Jonathan's mouth moved toward a pouty motion and then closed before interjecting. "The thing is, your little group of crusading marauders harnessing the power of the Hell mouth for earthly conquest intrigues me as a mechanism. Wow, how many big words did I use in that statement? In any case, anything he could find in those books would be harmless at best."

"I think you need you to reread your library, Xander."

"And why is that, Jonathan?" Xander sighed.

"He found the sacrificial incantation for summoning and vanquishing Nezzle'khan children to sacrifice and create the portal to the Orbs."

"Wow, I really do need to start rereading my books."

Jonathan blurted what he was thinking in exasperation. "What are we going to do?"

Xander moved from the bed to the wardrobe, picking out a nice black button-down. "Well, firstly, we is going to become a nonentity after we attack this problem twofold. Warren's become a threat and Andrew's complacency worries me. I've let a lot slide, but I think the time has come..."

"You're speaking in riddles, frightening and cryptic riddles."

"You don't really like that house as much as the mansion, do you Jonathan? Would you ever, say, move in with me if you didn't have another option?"

"You're going to destroy them."

Xander's eyebrows furrowed. "You're surprised by this?"

Jonathan stumbled as he moved backwards, almost dropping the binder he had brought with him that he was now clutching to his chest. "This was the plan all along."

"Well...yeah. You don't think I'd let someone with notions of world domination just go, do you? I mean, think of all the perks I'd lose. Spike said it best when he said that you're like little Happy Meals on legs and who really wants to give that up?"

Jonathan turned wide-eyed and pale, a momentary reminder to Xander of the boy's humanity and he backed up on his stance a little. "You're going to eat them?"

"Ummm...No?"

Jonathan shuddered as Xander's hand came lightly across his shoulder. "I really hate that," he exclaimed in a hushed and embarrassed tone.

"Jonathan, I don't know about you sometimes. The stomach for spells and for making others want you through them and yet just without the stomach for the dirty work. I mean, I assumed when you came to me with your concerns the first time..."

"Oh no! Xander Harris, you're not going to pin this on me."

"Will you stop calling me Xander? This is not high school."

"Exactly. I'm not the same guy."

Xander spread his arms like wings. "And you don't think I've changed a little? Come on, this is pure brand nihilism in its fighting form. This is a rush of New Deal democracy at a Hooverville! This is Amelia freakin' Earhart landing in England!"

Jonathan cleared his throat. "You know, that last one didn't happen. And nihilism would infer that you didn't actually plan anything nor that anything ever actually happens."

"So not the point, I was on a role. I want you to go through with the ceremony and if you get scared remember how capable you are and that you won't be alone."

"How can I trust you?"

"How can you trust Warren?"

"Good point. But do I have to sacrifice the kid?"

"The demon kid from an alternate universe. Generally, that's not the type of spell I'd let you dabble in any ways. Let's run some lines and see if we can talk our way out of it." Xander sighed. "If push comes to shove, then you'll just have to think of it as the runt pig of the litter."

Jonathan grumbled. "I hated that movie."


	21. Chapter 21

"We are the rejected!" Patrick shouted into his microphone, nearly gobbling the instrument in the process. "We are a standard of living. Think of your children, think of their future! I hear the Lord crying, crying out to you Sunnydale!" Patrick even managed a few tears for the occassion.

He was a fervent Espiscopalian minister. Most just read the texts and that was fine, Rev. Rayne supposed. His estranged cousin Ethan had begged him to come. At first, however, Patrick believed he had been called to Los Angeles. He had met the vampire there and entanglements had occurred. Angel believed him dead. Patrick believed you couldn't keep a good man down.

It was hot in the old stone building, one of the last secure relics of Sunnydale, impervious to the shaking evils of the rest of the city. It had been abandoned, Patrick had come in to perform a restoration job after several areas had collapsed. It seemed especially fitting considering the good priest excelled at exorcisms.

"Woe to you, oh children. Come and return to the holy hill of Zion!" Most of the congregation remained stoic, flipping their programs as fans to try and retain coolness. Patrick was grateful to wear black because it hid the stains. Sweat dropped down onto his podium, inches higher than the tallest of his small congregation of parents.

It had begun easily enough, the recruitment. The parents were all mortified, worried, blaming others. They had symptoms of regret, bias, and ultimately short memory spans. Patrick was no idiot; he could sense the evil exuding from the very ground. This was the holy place of the city; consecrated and fortified against evil. And wasn't he the very master of the domain?

It was with great pride he concluded the service with his own version of a baptismal communion. "The water represents our rebirth, our commitment to fight for truth and the love that is holy. Come and receive, ye rejected. Come and be clean." The chalice itself was different from any Roman architecture that Patrick had ever seen. Petals seemed to float from the solid brass of the cup, entwined with an odd strand of green thread.

Parents came down, some with tears. Most of the children were being hosted in a Sunday school class by his wife and so she rarely received the consencration of water, Patrick's own way of hosting communion. This no longer formally allowed him to claim Episcopalianship, but no one really argued the fact when he announced his allegiance.

He began to sprinkle water, but he felt something more coming through. It touched his fingers, through the forehead, straight to the mind and heart. It was this golden light, it moved through eyes and ears. He looked toward heaven, giving the blessed sign of the cross. The very rafters seemed to shift in song. Patrick looked down at his parish and heard a sweet whispered word. "Mine."

The new organ began to play the strains of an old hymn. The reverberation moved through the wooden pews, the dark designs twisting around the old stone columns, past the stained glass and heavy oak doors. It came to the ears of Willow and Tara as they passed the building on the way to Giles' old home. Dane sat in the backseat, uncomfortably ignored.

"Someone's bought the old church." Tara made the observation in passing.

"Sounds like they're having a good service," Willow returned noncommitadly.

"Churches are known as spiritual hotspots."

"I hate going in there," Tara shook her head as she reached for her thermos of lemon tea.

Dane tried once again to pipe in. "That doesn't surprise me. Anywhere humans feel spiritual activity is susceptible to..."

"Did you know that I met a preacher once at Starbucks that joked about keeping a fire extinguisher near the door?" Willow turned her eyes from the back mirror toward the locator spell that was running, keeping them out of the path of vampires and monsters. Xander may have guaranteed protection, however Dawn thought it was best to keep safe than sorry. Tara had been on the losing end of the argument, only tenuously agreeing to support Willow's decision.

"Are you going to continue ignoring me the entire way?"

Tara turned her head. "I think I speak for the entire Scooby gang when I say that none of us fully trust you."

Dane gave a quick wince of a smile. "Why would that be? Haven't I proven my loyalty even after Giles' passing?"

"That's just it." Willow piped in right before her cell phone rang. She didn't get a word in edgewise before she hung up.

"What is it?"

Willow's face brightened for a moment. "Xander needs some magickal expertise."

Tara shook her head, eyes pleading somewhere between Willow and her goddess. "You know how I feel about overuse of magick."

"This is different. This is an emergency."

Tara rolled her eyes. "The emergency you've wished for."

Willow stuttered a little. "It's just like the old days. Buffy on patrol, nights with Xander conjuring up snacks..."

Tara shook her head and Dane made a comment. "I guess it's just you and me at the crime scene." The eagerness in his voice made Tara incredibly nervous.

"Oh....yeah..." Willow gave the sad sounds of recognition, as though she were coming through a deep tide for water.

Tara shook her head, resigned. She cared about Willow, the old Willow, but now they all had brave enough to face reality and do the actual detective work necessary. Tara was more willing than anyone, save Dawn, to just touch and feel reality. The realm of magick was alluring, that was sure, but found itself often enough unstable and dangerous. Willow loved the danger, the tumultuous waves of passion and energy. "We'll be fine." Tara knew she was setting herself up for a lie.

Willow dropped them at the house, making a beeline for Xander and humming a jaunty tune to herself. Tara made sure to keep an eye on the distance between herself and Dane. They remained silent as the foreboding entrance to Giles' house stood in the foreground. "Are you ready?"

Tara didn't hear Dane for about a moment. "No, but this is something I have to do. For myself, for them."

She hesitated for just a moment before stooping down for the key under the mat. She examined the key as if hoping it would give her the answer to his death. Nervous wasn't the correct term. Tara was somewhere between nervous fear and dread. Dane breathing down her neck didn't help much either. "We should go in."

Tara nodded. "If I don't now, I may never be able to." The key groaned and the door creaked as they opened the house to a deathly silence. All the lights that had been on the night of his death were burnt out, the only light cast by the hall bulb.

Dane walked towards the bookcase, picking out a facade book that revealed a decanter of scotch. He showed the scotch to Tara and then preceeded to turn his back towards her while pouring two drinks, one of which fizzled a bit more than the other over the rocks.

"How about a drink, love?" He saluted Tara while downing one.

Tara shook her head. "You're so callous. And I don't drink on the rocks, frozen or neat only."

"He's dead. What's a scotch with such a great anniversary going to do with him in heaven?"

Tara shook her head again. "Well, I suppose that means you don't think he was poisoned by the scotch."

Dane chuckled. "If he was then I also wish to join him in that form of death."

"Let's start by reconstructing the events. Where did you find him?"

Dane nodded towards the stairs. "Bathroom. Let's go forward, then."

Tara noticed how closely behind Dane walked. An unobservant viewer might think he were frightened, but Tara wasn't fooled. Her heart beat a little harder than normal in her chest, a delicate sixth sense for evil sounding alarms all over her body.

The bathroom was a cold tomb, matching the eerie feel of the rest of the house. There was a strange lack of mess to it all, as though someone had deemed it necessary to do a little spot cleaning around the crime scene. Things seemed all in place for a murder, but more was amiss than just a death.

"Did you bring gloves?" Dane interjected her thoughts as she surveyed the scene.

"Didn't think I would have to. The case has already been closed by the detective handling the case. They ruled it a suicide, yet I don't remember you interjecting."

Dane shrugged. "There was no reason to."

"I can think of a few."

"You don't trust the police either." Dane pointed out.

"They set a historical precedent for their inabilities. Where did you find him?"

"He was bent over the sink, as though he were ill. I just assumed it was delayed from the flight. He'd been in the country long enough that he was acclimated to California still. But when he didn't come for breakfast half an hour following I called the police."

Tara turned from the dripping faucet back to him. "Why didn't you call Buffy if you didn't trust the police?"

"Well, you're all biased. Did you think I'd want to start you on a wild demon chase?"

The bitterness in Tara's voice surprised even her, the wound still slightly fresh in her mind. "Better a wild demon chase than the jailers. What are you trying to hide Dane?"

"Me?" Dane chuckled. "Dear girl, aren't you exceedingly paranoid? No...if I wanted Giles dead, which isn't the case considering he brought me from England, I would have done it a different way."

"Oh?" Tara's voice fluttered a bit as his facial malice became evident just slightly.

"You see, it's so much easier to bludgeon than poison. Poisoning is a messy affair. Did you notice the towel rack?" Dane picked up the rack in an almost swinging motion.

"So...you would have beat him over the head."

Dane sighed happily. "But I'd have no reason to."

"Unless he discovered something, a secret perhaps."

"Or maybe he got in my way."

"Why don't you put the towel rack down? I brought some swabs for the inside of the sink in my bag..."

"The towel rack's got a pretty good weight."

Tara grimaced, feeling her internal heartbeat drum up to a higher level than she enjoyed. Pretty soon, her magickal basis of protection from her mother would take over and it wouldn't be pretty. Clearly, she was in danger with Dane and her sixth sense served her well just as the towel rack was positioned to swing against her skull.


	22. Chapter 22

"Why is it that monsters always choose places that affect my sinuses?" Jonathan peered around nervously before reaching for his ever-present back pocket of Kleenex. The cave itself was dirty, pools of tepid water everywhere available to step in and seep through the annoying lower part of your jeans, just enough that you have to wash the jeans afterward, blood or not.

Warren answered, per normal. "First off, Jonathan, Nezzle'khan demons are not merely "monsters", they are semi-ordained oracles from a different plane of existence. Mocking and underestimating them could get us all killed." His voice was tinged with the same annoyance that Jonathan felt weighed him down. "Secondly, your sinuses are not first thought when demons choose real estate."

Jonathan sniffed into his white flag. "Those both might be the case, however that does not mean they can't accommodate while visiting."

Andrew craned his neck behind while waiting for Warren's signal to move, checking for possible enemy signal. "You make it sound like they're on vacation or something. It's a bit more serious than that."

Jonathan felt as grumpy as his facial expressions showed. "With our defenses, they might as well be."

Warren's head peeked around a corner via a mirror produced swiftly from his pocket as he muttered. "That's why we're using the element of surprise, hopefully they'll be underestimating us. Are you ready?"

Jonathan and Andrew nodded their heads hesitantly. Warren's fingers moved in a twirling motion, the cue for Jonathan to set the shield at the mouth of the cave. Andrew heard the diminutive member of the Trio scurry off farther back towards the entrance. He moved toward Warren, crouching as close as a co-conspirator can without being accused of being a lover, although that wasn't out of the question in their case. They did need an outlet for frustration in some exhausting moments. Warren realized this was the reasoning more than Andrew could have.

"Things are going too well," Andrew hissed.

"No, things are going perfectly Andy. That's a sign."

"I hate when you call me Andy."

"Yeah, well at least it's Andy with a y and not an i." Warren switched his weight onto his legs completely, bearing down in his crouched position.

Andrew licked his lips. "Fireworks on three?"

Warren nodded, his right hand embracing the scabbard slung across his back while the left held the side of wall. Somewhere his mind closed in on the echo of Jonathan's soft murmurs sealing the entrance from other Nezzle'khan or unfriendly demons. The sound gave him sharper force and he would need it.

The book Warren had stolen from Jonathan's borrowed pile from Xander described Nezzle'khan demons to a tee. Infamously more pastoral than vicious and linked to the Powers, they were the perfect group to hide orbs shrouded in mystery. The only problem is that the key entrance to the portals of their dimensions never changed. Positive words about their fighting skills seemed non-existent. The element of surprise would work best in attack was one of the most comforting things the book held the words for.

Warren lusted after the orbs of strength. Three points of light creating true invincibility and speed, giving the wearer immortal power rivaling Hercules and Jason combined. It would be enough to drop Jonathan and create a wizarding slave in Andrew to bind the orbs to him. He would finally be in control of the city and then he would move further, succeeding every bully and brain that could ever cross his path.

"1...2...3...Now!" Warren erupted from behind the wall, moving toward the center of the Nezzle'khan clan. There were six of them, a combination of scaly grey skin and exotic priesting robes. He descended brutally upon them with the sword, most temporarily blinded by Andrew's fireworks. His face was a gritty scowl, silent and swift.

Unfortunately, the demons were known more for sense of smell than sight. Further, Warren had not anticipated the theory of the toughness of Nezzle'khan scales. They were not decimated by one or two slashes. They had more grace for giant lizards than Warren envisioned as well. He brought down the youngest first with three slashes to the right wrist. Warren also noted the spray of purple blood that both stained and singed his shirt with heat slightly. The Nezzle'khan were not known either as merely cold-blooded pacifists.

One managed to create a gash in the struggle with four down and two to go. He had been backed against the wall and Andrew instead of staying put had rushed forward in Warren's defense. Easily clotheslined, Warren guilty confessed to himself that if this were the end, he was sure of his place in hell. That did not bode well for his inner spirit of confidence and leadership. He fought against the crushing hold of the demon, who whispered a phrase that sounded incredibly nasty to Warren.

There was a rip that descended through the echoes of the cave. The place lit with a garish white light, causing Warren to cough and gasp. His back was bleeding, at least two ribs broken and no sensation in his right leg. The sword and scabbard lay abandoned and sticking sharply from the ground.

"Eskio matai rafedia measki." The booming voice of the elder called to the crackling cloud of swirling smoke dangling between columns of wreathed laurel candles.

"What are you doing?" Warren cried out with an unexpected crackle.

"Taking...you...sacrifice...", the booming voice mumbled in slight broken English with the gruff and sincere Nezzle'khan tongue.

There was a gasp of air as Warren felt himself lose control of his consciousness. He could feel the cave wall becoming cave floor. This couldn't be it, he thought in despair. Warren is so much better than this....a black light flashed across his vision and he assumed it was the robes of Death. Then Jonathan's battle cry came through clearly._ Wait,_ Warren thought in utter confusion,_ that's not Jonathan's voice_.

The sound of the saber rattled, interspersed with hisses. Warren's mind went blank as he slipped away, only to be brought back to harsh reality by Jonathan slapping his face with way more zest than was required.

"Okay, okay! I get it. I'm awake....you hit me once more...." Jonathan let go and Warren fell back on the floor, softened in the blow by Andrew's body. "What happened? The book said..."

Jonathan's look was both souring and victorious. "The book obviously didn't have all the answers, Warren. I told you we were unprepared."

Warren groaned as he stood. "And yet, they're all dead."

Andrew nodded as he stood. "So there's nothing to complain about."

"Okay, then, where do we get the orbs from?"

Warren walked over to the sword, still sliced into the rock perfectly where it had stood before. He used the sharp instrument to point toward the shining vortex without a hint of suction. "Through there."

Jonathan stretched his shoulders in anxiety before wiping the purple splatter from across his chin. "Okay, let's go then."

Warren grimaced. "It's not that simple. If you're not a Nezzle'khan and you go through the portal, you'll be dumped anywhere."

Jonathan's eyes went wide. "Then we should have kept one alive."

Warren barked at Jonathan. "Nothing would have kept them from coming back. Now luckily..." Warren sliced the head off of one of the remaining intact hides. "This hide is pretty intact."

Andrew squinted his eyes. "What are we going to do with the skin?"

Warren grinned, turning his gaze from Andrew to Jonathan. "One of us is going to get the orbs trojan horse style."

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're the most compact, Jonathan."

Jonathan backed away a step. "Woah! I did not agree to this. We don't know what's behind there."

Warren groaned. "Jonathan, Jonathan. Now come on and think. There are three orbs. Don't you want to know what it's like to have real power? We've come so far."

Jonathan's body hunched down. "It's always gonna be like this, isn't it?"

Warren shrugged. "Luck of the draw. You're just the most compact, can't argue with logic, can you?"

"I suppose."

Andrew moved over to the skin, laying it on the ground and motioning for Jonathan to step in and suit up with a nearly-tangible glee. Jonathan could do nothing but sigh toward his resigned fate.

"Why are you sighing? It's the perfect size. All you have to do is go on, filch the orbs, grunt a few Klingon phrases and high tail back in this direction. In and out of costume in ten minutes." Warren leaned in to help with Jonathan's arms. "Look," he purred, "I know you don't trust me anymore. But we're here and we're so close. Just this once, stop arguing and look at reality. Look at what we can accomplish together."

Jonathan bit his tongue, but kept his peace. He looked warily at the brilliant vortex and the candles not quite halfway gone dim. The shortest man looked back briefly into the hopeful and flickering eyes of his companions, muttered an unintelligible phrase and walked through the wall of light.

Warren burst out into laughter. "I can't believe he fell for that! How could he believe I could keep him safe from this side of the vortex?"

Andrew shook his head. "You didn't actually promise him anything, Warren. He knows the risks."

"It'll be soon, Andy. He can't survive."

Andrew's eyes brightened as he demurely shrunk himself into Warren's side. "And then you'll have me alone. No questions, fearless leader."

Warren kissed the top of his head. "That's the best way in the world to win, Andy."

"I hate it when you call me that," Andrew whispered.

"And you know that people still call me by that damned name that I hate." The male voice echoed menacingly through the canyon of a nearly empty cave.

"Who's that?"

Warren took a step from the worried Andrew. "Don't worry about it. Faithful Jonathan set the perfect entrance protection spell. He'd never double cross us."

"You so sure about that?"

Warren snarled. "Not unless you had something to do with it Xander."

Xander stepped from the shadows. "I do hate that name still."

Andrew chimed in. "And yet you answer to it. All the time."

Warren's face contorted in anger. "You disgust me, Harris. So much potential but look at the caliber of people you've surrounded yourself with. Losers, outcasts, hangers-on....you're not worth the fight."

Xander chuckled as he advanced. "You can talk a big game Warren. I'll admit that you even had me worried. Raw talent and magick, that can be a disastrous mix if handled improperly. Don't believe me? Just ask Amy."

Xander advanced behind Andrew, who gasped just after the registering of a feral Xander Harris grabbing his ribcage. "It's interesting that you refer to the people surrounding me. And it's kind of funny that you think the Slayer owns me. What has Jonathan been telling you?"

Warren narrowed his eyes. "I suspect the same he's been telling you. Or maybe more?"

Xander sighed, raking his hands across Andrew's shaking gut as his face drained pale trying to make signals to Warren with his eyes. "It's amazing what people will tell you when they feel isolated. Such as those in their life that they feel hurt by or those who are loved more."

Andrew's neck went stiff as Xander tipped his head to side. His fangs easily grazed the smooth jugular vein's connecting tissues. There was a perverse glee in Xander's ability to take control of unmanageable situations.

Warren began laughing so hard that he doubled over while grasping the sword. "You're gonna threaten me? Might want to find something to barter with more attractive."

Andrew whispered, but it echoed louder through the room. "You're gonna let him kill me?"

Warren scowled. "No, no!" He tried to mouth his real intentions in the drawn-out words but wasn't sure that Andrew could read the code.

Xander sighed. "I do hate being left out of conversations. It's really rather rude, don't you think?"

Warren stared Xander down, unfazed. "You'd best get out vampire."

Xander threw Andrew to the floor of the cave. "Or what?"

Warren shrugged as he threw the holy water hand grenade. "Or this."

Xander hissed and struggled, running and nearly missing walls as he grasped his burning face. He ran swiftly back towards the shadows. Warren swaggered out and extended his hand toward Andrew.

Andrew took the hand in disbelief. "You were gonna let him shoot me."

Warren continued to grasp Andrew's hand. "Andy, how could you believe that?"

"It's a little hard not to."

Warren could smell the fear exuding from Andrew's throat. He moved close, sniffing in the scent. "You mean too much to me."

Tears began to form in Andrew's eyes as he reached for the revolver in the hidden holster near his hip. In a flash of distrust, Warren felt the bullet pass through his gut. A flash of hot light and then nothing except the volcanic warmth of his own blood dripping down from his shirt. He stumbled away for a moment, gazing around the room. His eyes were stunned, pained, wounded. But not because he was in love. Andrew held a shaking trigger in his direction, his face even more pale than before.

"You...you shot me! I trusted you! I was going to take you to a place you'd never been before!"

Andrew spoke meekly, gaining confidence. "You...you did. And I love you. But we can't be this, powers like this aren't meant for us but for whatever gods people pray to now." He was weeping openly, tears blurring his vision as Warren collapsed to his knees. It was best for all involved that way.

"Good job Andrew." Xander regained his composure as he walked back towards the scene. His face was worse for wear, a giant streak of water cut through his face and his eye remaining delicately in his socket but more black and shriveled than before.

"You betrayed me...for him?" Warren's voice crackled with disbelief and understanding.

"I saw the letter. You were betraying me too. All those scribbles, binding orbs and us. I'm not a slave. I wasn't in high school and I won't be now." His hand shook as Andrew unloaded three more bullets from the weapon. Warren fell, not even having time to gasp. Xander walked over to Andrew and removed the gun easily from his hand.

"Do you want to live after this?"

"No." Andrew whispered, defeated and in the knowledge of the darkness in his former Trio life. "But don't drink."

Xander nodded, coming up behind Andrew. He whispered gently. "I understand, don't move."

In a swift movement, Andrew's neck snapped under Xander's deft grip.

There wasn't a moment that passed before Jonathan came running through the white mist as a linebacker. The candles snuffed out almost instantly and they both had to blink before recognition of the scene came into play.

Jonathan gulped as he tried bursting from the Nezzle'khan skin holding the Orbs. "So, they really did crumble without me?"

Xander smirked. "Warren is more at fault than anyone."

Jonathan blinked. "Help me out of this thing. I feel grotesque."

Xander nodded. "Turn around and brace yourself. I'm not sure how deep I need to go." Xander's nails sliced through the opening in between the scales and the garment fell in thirds.

"What'll we do in the bodies?"

"Willow's going to consecrate the cave and then I'm going to make an avalanche cover it. So no meddling with the bodies and no more Nezzle'khan demons. Everyone wins."

"They don't win." Jonathan looked down gloomily at his two foreign comrades. "I hate to say that they got what they deserve...however..."

Xander's arms were around the sorrowed Jonathan. "They meddled in things they weren't prepared for. We all have...we're just luckier in that we got it a little more right. Now let's just...go. Start fresh, come back to the mansion with me."

"You still want to help me after all this? Aren't you afraid that I'll turn on you?"

Xander let a little chuckle escape his throat before looking dead-on at Jonathan. "No."

Jonathan began walking toward the exit. "What do we do with the orbs?"

Xander turned one over in his hands. "We are not gods, Jonathan. Few fail to understand or realize the exact wording of the phrase. Fewer know power and even the one who died for all, or so the Christians say, was an impossible model. So much power...."

Jonathan hurled one toward a wall and it smashed, bringing Xander back to reality. "You're right. And until we can learn control, honor, and destiny than I'd rather not toy with objects I don't understand."

Xander smiled warmly. "You've learned a lot."

Jonathan blushed as he looked at the brittle pieces. "I've learned most of it from you, Xander."

Xander's head bobbed in affirmation before his claws allowed the one orb in his hands to drop. "Should we let Willow drop the last?"

Jonathan's eyebrows furrowed. "There's something in this one."

Xander quirked his head as he moved closer to Jonathan. "But the legends don't say..."

"The legends say they protect things."

"But why would they protect something in one of the three orbs? Why not break up the pieces?"

Xander gasped, remembering something he'd seen in a tapestry in his grandmother's house long ago. "Because it's destiny. Because they knew that..." Xander grasped the orb and threw it down violently. The violet trinket reflected, even in the shadowy cave.

Jonathan's voice trembled. "But I thought you said not to..."

Xander plucked the small orb from the ground. There was a warmth, a clear reality to the thing. There was even a sharp line that matched the stain in his visage. He gasped, reaching and wrenching the blackened eye tissue from his socket. Jonathan winced in an absent sympathy pain. "Something tells me that this is different."


	23. Chapter 23

Dane smirked to himself as he staggered toward the center of town. He was bleeding, not significantly but enough to attract his own unsavory attention in that sort of town. Dane wasn't afraid of vampires, after all he knew more about them than they themselves, for the most part. And it's not as though he hadn't shown too much of his hand to Tara. _Greed is the downfall of man,_ he thought with a bemused tone.

He finally sat for a rest, not daring to return to the places he knew the Scooby Gang would meet. "Those witches, that vampire and Slayer. They are far more trouble than most mortals are worth. I've come so far, but this plan is useless while one survives. I need the pain of the other or of loss. Dawn's too protected, Xander and Buffy are nearly invincible in angered states. What's a mad genius to do?"

Dane sighed, noting how cold it was on the cement in the middle of the Californian summer. His head titled backwards, noticing where his feet had taken him for the first time. He was greeted by archaic buttresses and a chill that perused all the bones along his spine. It was that church they had passed, possibly the best of the hiding places.

Dane recognized the man's voice, even as he lay on the pew and felt the blood on his brow beginning to congeal. Patrick Rayne was stumbling through his next oration to the congregation.

"Paul was a man of great wisdom and humility. The honor bestowed by his words and pen almost give us no justice in phrases such as a threefold cord unbroken. Many insightful things into Christian living are the greatest basis for a life free from the slimy evil that lines the ligaments and rots the bones of our mortal bodies."

"Sounds very pretty, preacher." Dane intoned without hint of emotion.

"Who's there?" Patrick eyed the doors of his church wearily while Dane lay down, almost hidden on a pew.

"You're conscience." Dane chuckled to himself, convinced that the loss of blood may not have been the best asset during such a conversation.

"My conscience doesn't sound like someone off of the mad wagon. Do you live here in town?"

Dane finally sat up. "You might say that. I lived in London for awhile and fate seems to have brought me to Sunnydale."

Patrick smirked. "I've found the same true of myself. It's a drawing place."

"That's true." Dane moved almost slowly to his feet, vertigo hitting slightly. He walked closer and sat a few pews from the pulpit. His feet were warm thanks to vents hidden beneath the seats. But in any of the seats from place he seemed to freeze. "But what it draws is of greater concern."

"No place is devoid of evil, nor heart."

Dane shook his head. "Save your sermons, the watchers have heard them and even heeded them occasionally. But on the eve of another great war, we have no use for a dead religion."

Patrick's voice boomed with incredulity. "Dead religion? Bear in mind with whom and where you are speaking."

"Ah yes! Your precious castles of stone and glass." Dane leapt to his feet, an action which surprised him as much as anyone. "Your castle while a war brews."

"The wars of men continue. God lives on."

Dane broke out into a full laugh and Patrick's eyes tried to pierce through the man he saw as injured and possibly drunk. _Perhaps,_ Patrick reasoned with himself, _the conversation would be a good enough sobering point_. "God doesn't care about your wars. Come on, padre."

"We are messengers. Such disrespect..."

"You disrespect yourself." Dane began to mount the stairs, standing eye level with the stare below where Patrick stood. "You come to this kingdom, the potential portal of darkness and you don't even know what you could do."

"Mine is not to wield the darkness or the lies, but to know the light of men."

"The light of men here is dead. The place is guarded by a women of demon essence. The Slayer."

"The Slayer?"

"She pollutes those who work forward of morality and descend with order into the chaos. She blasphemes the counsel and recruits the rebel."

"Her pathways sound as though they bend toward unrighteousness."

Dane nodded, Patrick finding himself unable to keep from climbing down to where Dane was. "She brought Angelus forth and then had the gall to chew out the guardians."

"Sounds headstrong."

"It would take more than a miracle hewn out of your castle of stone to destroy her, my simple religious friend."

"Perhaps, then, we should pray." Patrick's hopeful eyes were now level with the empty and deceitful dark eyes of Dane.

"Your prayers are hollow, preacher. This era is for action, not words."

"And what action would have me take? Raise an army from my flock? They heed not, they listen not to the shepherds."

Dane hissed, moving close to Patrick's ear. "Make them listen."

"I am but a man and you speak as a demon." Patrick raged, moving a few steps away.

"Then you've heard the sounds? You know what this place is and what you must do."

"I am but a man, a mortal man with no control."

"This place brings more than people toward it. The Hell mouth is more. You've been given a gift, surely?"

Patrick bit down on his lip. "In your drunken stupor of rage, perhaps you know more. Stay for a just moment."

Dane gasped as Patrick returned from the curtained back area. "The cup is here." Dane imagined holding it, fondling as a lover. "You have Gorgessa."

"Gorgessa?"

"It was lost in Alexandria, so the tales go. It belonged to Jason, a spoil from Medusa's lair. It was said for the wielder of justice that it would bring control over the bodies of stone in her grasp. Why not then also any body?"

"It's a simple communion cup, my friend."

Dane began to laugh. "Nothing in Sunnydale is as it seems. Have you drank from it?"

"No."

"Then do it now. You may be able yet to quench the darkness." Dane's mind was renewing his plan afresh. The father could be a great servant toward his goal of destroying the line and renewing the natural balance.

Patrick took the cup away from Dane's grasp. "Give me a reason that I should trust you."

"I am Dane Evers. Ethan Rayne told me about the cup, but he never said it was destroyed."

"You know Ethan Rayne?"

Dane nodded. "By your tone of voice, I can only assume you've admitted the same."

Patrick nodded, looking at the cup solemnly. He hurried before his doubt could catch his feet and dipped the dark chalice into holy water, taking a long draught of musty wet wine. At first, the world spun but he held firm against the well. The old building seemed to groan with age and shape. A darkness leapt from the shadows.

Patrick called to the form. "Halt!"

The form stopped and turned, shifting into what the Grecian call a Gorgon. For a moment, there was a standoff. The gorgon blinked at the mortal holding the chalice and then bowed.

"Who are you?" Dane spoke plainly but the gorgon's gaze held fast.

"Answer him!" Patrick's voice boomed in a way he knew not.

"I am Deltressa, second sister to the daugher of the Gorgon Queen, awakened by the mortal male drink of the chalice. I embody the spirit of that which sent me and lead children into the purity of that spirit so that the world may know of the empire of the snake witch."

"Do you prey for good or evil?"

"I prey for that which I am called."

Dane smirked, the gorgon watching his walk toward Patrick. "And you've called her. Does it seem difficult to decide your destiny?"

"No. This is surely a first come, first killed situation. You say the darkness began with the Slayer? Than let the children extinguish the darkness."


	24. Chapter 24

"I don't like the looks of this," Xander muttered. It was a rare night in at Angel's mansion. Jonathan was having slight trouble adjusting to both the sleep and the training schedule. Xander was pushing him hard, even Xander would admit that. But he had his reasons. The vampiric change hadn't taken his Hell mouth intuition away. Perhaps it had just made the feeling stronger.

"What is it?" The curtain moved farther to the side as Jonathan peeked through the perfectly clean window.

"Trouble. Lots of trouble, right here in River City."

"And that starts with a t and that rhymes with p and that stands for pool." Jonathan muttered, which granted him an obscure Xander look.

"Please tell me that you've mastered that entrance spell."

Jonathan nodded. "I've had it set up for nearly a day and a half. I've also created a password protection protocol for the cybernetic lock to the main doors in the house."

"Have Charlie check the kitchen doors then and see if they're drifting this way."

Jonathan shook his head. "Charlie's not here."

Xander blinked, his body pushing away from the glass faster than the curtain could fall back. "What do you mean he's not here? We can't set up a perimeter that would keep him out."

"…because he's a good friend?"

Xander shook his head. "More like, he's not expendable."

Jonathan backed away, his torso turning as though it were aflame. "That's awful, Xander. He's been your loyal friend this entire time."

Xander grimaced. "No. He could never bring himself to leave completely, even when I virtually told him to. He's a slave to his sire and right now, my Alfred is in danger Robin."

Jonathan turned back towards the window. "Why do I always have to be the ward?"

Xander grinned, trying to defuse the tension. "Because I look better in black tights and dark blue undies."

Charlie was still actually in the kitchen at that moment. He had told Jonathan he was sending some supplies over to Tara to help bind some of Willow's more errant magickal moments. He slung the small brown duffel over his shoulder gently, hearing a rattle in the soft blankets that he'd used to line the bottom. The bag itself covered most of the fumes coming from the freshly-dug roots. Xander's idea to prepare the basement and garden with magick items was both incredibly astute and foolhardy. Charlie gave a look back towards the entrance to the foyer. Maybe some of Xander's intuition was rubbing off on him. The childe had this feeling in the pit of his stomach that he'd never see his sire again.

He hesitated at the first step away from the back of the house. The color of the sky was off. It was dark, but almost in a shaded way as though charcoal had descended upon the sky. It reminded Charlie of something he'd seen on the History Channel about Pompeii. This memory made his nerves quiver silently with unease.

At first, the changes were hard to miss. Children were boisterous things and Charlie himself wasn't the biggest fan of the tots. But the darkened streets didn't seem as protected as they normally were, as though something were channeling all energies towards itself, both good and bad. The way the clouds moved made Charlie think that there should have been some form of wind, but the air itself was stagnant and choking.

He began to walk faster, looking over his shoulder towards the nothingness that seemed to follow. He passed cemeteries without hesitance and bars without a second thought. No demons roamed the streets, nor any older humans. This was very strange for Charlie, as though the world were listing somehow and off by half a beat. And then the aroma hit and he began to run full tilt. Something was burning and the scent was all-too familiar.

He knocked rapidly at Buffy's door. The lights were on, but there was no movement. Charlie saw the small shape in the shadows before what he thought was a creature. He knew that he could never break the door to enter and that Tara never answered her phone. The burning smell was more vivid in the house and yet there was no sense of fire. Charlie could only sense the protection spell.

Charlie threw his shoulder into the door, leaving nothing but a resounding thud in its wake. He was flummoxed by their inability to hear him. He muttered as he nearly ran towards the kitchen door, vaulting over what remained of the back picket gate. There was nothing following him in the yard. Charlie continued to bang against the back door until he nearly broke the small square window.

Tara's footsteps sped down the stairs with slight hesitance. She came towards the door and talked through the magickally-fortified entrance. "Is Xander with you?"

"Xander doesn't know I've left. Let me in Tara."

"You came here unprotected? Can't you feel that?"

"Why else would I have the skin tone of three elder vampires put together? Please, invite me in."

Tara nodded and said a few Latin phrases that caused the lock to click. Charlie wrenched open the door and felt as though he were swimming against a current. Tara followed his bewildered gaze and steps as he looked out towards the yard. "It's another spell. I hate to use it, but it's word key is the key."

"Dawn is rising," Charlie said without hesitation. That was the current month's person and otherwise Charlie would have been sent flying back towards the mansion with that spell. It was clear Willow was getting magnificent in her strength. The thought frightened Charlie, who was now able to see dark potential ever since the painter had disappeared from the mansion.

The rushing sensation of riding the rapids propelled Charlie forward. He set down the duffel bag. "You're smart to use that spell. But the invocation…you know that she shouldn't be using such power."

"Willow's not. I am, Charlie."

"Have you gone mad? Without you keeping a level head, how…?"

Tara nodded. "We don't have a choice. Anya got wind of a new prophecy and she dropped off words from Leo warning us of a Gorgon's talisman harnessing the entrance to the Hellmouth."

Charlie gulped. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"It gets worse. Magickal beings are indicated for attack with this. None of the Scoobies are safe since we all have the scent."

"I should get back to the Mansion then."

"No." Tara shook her head. "The source can't track you because the spell scent isn't on you yet. You still have a chance to get someplace safe. Magick has trapped us all here."

Charlie nodded. "Where's Buffy?"

"With Spike, but neither of them is answering their phone."

Charlie opened the duffel as he was thinking. He bit his lip when he realized that the only one who had the potential for recognizance was himself, the only semi-Scooby with no magickal scent on them. He listed off the binding ingredients as Tara examined the contents of the containers. Charlie sighed. "Are you sure you still want to do this?"

Tara nodded. "Now, it's more imperative. We may not have another option of leaving Sunnydale intact."

Charlie turned back towards the door but Tara grabbed his arm. "You can't go back out there. Even I know they can sense the magick, the house is protected."

"I know. But you can't stay trapped forever…and we don't even know what they is."

"Charlie, you can't. That's a suicide mission. At least stick around to see if the binding spell will work."

"There's not enough time, Tara. Whatever is in the clouds is already taking shape. If I can find the source and let you or Xander know, then perhaps there will be a chance."

"If you find Buffy, she can protect you."

Charlie sighed as he opened the door, wrenching his arm away from Tara. "In the short time I've known Ms. Summers, I've realized that she has blinders towards individual potential. This is where Giles balances her so well with the tools of survival she needs. But Spike blinds her to Giles and drags her into her own darkness. Both Trios are broken and I'm a childe without a sire."

Charlie walked out into the night, bracing himself for a fight that did not occur. Tara was left speechless in the kitchen, holding a jar of tanneis root. The legend of the Rosemary tale told her exactly how to perform the ritual without Willow's consent, but she would not perform a ritual of that nature without the other person's knowledge.

"Willow?" Her voice was shaky as the red-haired Wiccan moved down the stairway. She had had too many brief crashes into dark magick and Tara wanted to offer her a less offensive solution than the one Giles had proffered.

"Tara? Who was at the door."

"I was borrowing some ingredients from Xander's garden."

"Xander didn't stop to say hi? Was he being attacked by frogs? Those buggers are vicious you know, with those strong leaping legs…"

Tara shook her head, suppressing a small smile at the old Willow babbling beneath the new darker Pagan. "No, it was Charlie. He's gone to find the source of the new issue, I think."

Willow's eyes went wide. "How could you let him go?"

Tara motioned to herself. "How could I let him go? I don't control other people's destinies, Willow. Surely you can understand that."

"Let's not fight about this now."

Tara nodded. "He was able to get me all the ingredients I needed before he left."

"These don't look like the ingredients of another protection spell."

Tara bit down on her lip. "They aren't. If you check the bookmarked page on the coffee table, you'll see what they're for and how we can escape this new evil with it."

Willow walked into the other room and glanced at the page that was opened. The hurt in her eyes, the dawn of comprehension, the dullness that replaced the eager gleam from spell casting physically hurt Tara's heart as she stood still in the kitchen. "Oh."

"If there wasn't any other way…"

Willow shook her head as she walked back into the kitchen. "No, I can see that you didn't really trust me to stop, did you?"

"Can you focus, Willow? There's a bigger problem out there and I love you enough to want to survive this." Tara begged Willow to understand.

"This is a heart binding spell. We could kill each other."

Tara shook her head solemnly. "Not if you meant what you said."

"It would leave us vulnerable."

"But leave enough magick here to take Dawn and run from this town, to start over."

"Without magick, without that connection…"

Tara tried controlling the volume of her voice. "I don't want to be my mother, Willow. I don't want to be so blinded by deeper powers than myself that I die inside. I want to live and experience things. If you won't come with me, then I'll just let the spell take my powers and bind them to Dawn."

Willow gasped. "You can't. The Key absorbs all magick into a different dimension. You'd be throwing away a gift!"

"Ever since the battle with Glory, it's more of a curse." Tara let down the shield from her eyes and Willow saw that slashing pain for the first time. Tara was strong but utterly sensitive to emotion and to nature. That was partially what made her a natural magical being. But the Achilles tendon was the abuse Glory had put that power under.

"Oh Goddess." Willow gasped.

Tara nodded while a tear collapsed upon one of the sealed jars. "Do you understand now, my love? All I want is to be with you, magick or not. But if you use anymore then I'm not sure you'll be the Willow I love and I can't stay around the new Willow."

"No!" Willow put her arm out to touch Tara, in case she faded away. "I can be that Willow again, that funny nerd who takes Halloween far too seriously in the costume department or forgets to light the Menorah one night and lights it twice the next for her family's benefit. I am still Willow."

Tara hung her head, her eyes boring a hole into one of the ingredients. "Then you'd see what this spell means for both of us."

Willow walked over to Tara and caught her in a kiss. "I do love magick and being useful, but without you to share it with…it means nothing to me anymore. Perhaps I have forgotten that the tools don't use the handyman."

Tara chuckled through her tears. "Handy woman."

Willow nodded. "Yeah, that too."


	25. Chapter 25

"Can one of you move your knee?" Jonathan whined as he was accustomed to doing when uncomfortable.

"Sod off, nerd. I'm already shoved into this little bit of a corner and so my knee can do what it damn well pleases!"

Xander snapped back at Spike. "Lay off the kid, Spike."

"Hey! I'm right here, you know."

"As if you'd ever bleeding let us forget. And will someone tell me why you're here again?" Spike snarled in annoyance at the blossoming mage.

Jonathan pleaded his case matter of factly not to be thrown out of the confession booth. "Well, I'm the one that cast both that containment spell and..."

Spike shot back harshly. "A little too late might I add."

Xander shook his head, warning Spike against bringing it up again. They had enough bad blood between them, pardon the pun, that this should not add to the discomfort.

"Still, if someone could just..." Jonathan tried to force Spike by shifting his weight over to one side, thus sending one of Spike's precarious feet launching out of the booth. Spike snarled as the sun hit through the gap left by his foot. They had already knocked out the inner portion of the divider between the confession booths. The walls were too thin as it stood.

Xander tensed, moving slightly closer to the door. "Well, there are some positives to your hot-hotheadedness Spike."

"Such as?" Spike growled incredulously.

Xander pointed to the hole. "I'd say that by the position of the sun that it's got to be nearly three. That means we'll be able to move in a few hours."

It was clear by the silence that followed that Xander was thinking of Willow in all of this. True, he'd mourn for Charlie. But, lets be honest, this was Sunnydale and further than that, there was almost no chance that any of his ashes were still sitting on the steps after having been blown away by the early morning entrance of pissed-off Willow. Or perhaps it had still been later at night. The clouds had made it difficult to decipher.

Jonathan couldn't stand the silence. He didn't like being left alone in his own head or trapped in a box with two vampires, even if one was as good as a mentor to him. "Well, at least we'll be out soon then."

"I'm going to eat you."

Xander shook his head. "No, you're not Spike. Leave Jonathan in peace."

"I'm gonna leave him in bloody pieces."

"Yeah, well, then that'll just add to our lovely little embryo, won't it?" Xander's voice deflated somehow, sounding smaller.

Jonathan's face screwed up in confusion. "Excuse me...our what...?"

Xander tried to wave his hands around a bit while continuing to be flustered. "You know...our embryo...plot confusion..."

Spike gave him a pity nod and then heard Jonathan and his voice talk at the same time. "I think you mean imbroglio."

"Don't snarl at me for knowing a lot of words!" Jonathan shrank even smaller against Spike's fowl attitude.

There was raucous movement outside the booth. Two of the occupants of the booth tensed up. The scent in the air was neither familiar nor ambiguously good. It was a patron of Sunnydale and that could mean anything. Charlie's entrance last night had proven that whatever sanction on the ground remained from the fact that it was still a church was eradicated. This was no longer a holy place.

The door was jerked open and it was the vampire's turn to jerk back from the sunlight, even as it was continuing to dim and fade. Patrick was disheveled, his eyes wide and his mouth fumbling for stammered words. There was a large cut over his eyebrows that seemed to be healing with a bit of a glaze over it.

"I didn't want this." He tried to absolve himself, his form so pale that you'd almost have thought he was a vampire.

"And what did you think was going to happen living over a Hellmouth?" Xander hissed from where he huddled in the corner, angered that the man didn't seem to understand they weren't just cowards hiding in a confession booth.

"Dear God....I didn't know. The Council just told me that."

Spike groaned. "Of course, the council. Roddy bunch of pencil pushers stickin' their necks in where they don't belong."

"But how did they know about the chalice?" Jonathan wondered aloud.

Patrick gave a half-hearted shrug. "I assumed they knew through Dane. He told me that Ethan was a virtual encyclopedia of knowledge."

Xander's voice trembled with something akin to rage. "Please tell me that you're not referring to Ethan Rayne."

"He's the black sheep of my family." Patrick's voice rang hollow.

Spike snorted. "Well now you know why."

Patrick repeated himself. "I didn't want this. I just wanted to cleanse the town." His forlorn eyes settled on the currently almost silent Jonathan. A silent Jonathan is almost never a good thing.

Jonathan lunged for the preacher as the last vestiges of the sun fell behind cloud and mountain. Inky spots of twilight battled with the last rays of the sun. Jonathan's face twisted in an unheard of display of nerdy rage. Some of the pews were still intact, most of them not crumbled completely were at least broken into half.

Fresh blood from Patrick's head joined the dirty, dried blood stains on the fake marble stairs. When the boys had followed Charlie, they had found Spike watching from the trees. He had been passing through on his way to Buffy and he had heard it all.

Charlie had never impressed him before as a childe. Truth be told, Spike thought the silent walk thing was both kind of frightening and something of a show-off move. He could run silently. Hell, he could suck silently. But there was no fun in that. Charlie had always seemed like a caricature of a vampire to him. But Spike had been wrong in other cases, and he was loathe to admit just how wrong he was here.

There had been a monster of sorts, almost of an illusory variety. It was clear by peeking through the windows that the preacher with the chalice should have been the master. But Dane was the one sitting on the steps, laughing cruelly, and giving the thing orders. And the thing's orders were murderous by any standard. Lord knows that Spike had enjoyed being a sadistic hellion while unencumbered with a soul, but the use of brainwashed children to carry out your deeds was taking it a bit far. And that was even for the man's demon. He had thought of calling Buffy when Xander and Jonathan had rolled up in Angel's old town car. The one he could use at night.

Xander's best bet was on Dane being at the center of all this. He watched from high in a tree and Spike caught a glint of something where the eye used to be in Xander's socket. "I knew that fucker couldn't be trusted," Xander growled.

"I have to go get Buffy." Spike had run off for back-up but Xander wasn't sure that there was time for that.

Then Charlie had been hit by Dane, slapped hard enough across the cheek to send him sprawling across a pew. Xander winced for his childe, the inner Eldridge snarling to get inside and protect his son. But Xander knew as a man that he couldn't go in yet. The preacher watched with lucid interest as the fisticuffs continued. Then all hell had broken lose.

Xander had felt the presence of the town's children first. It was a lucky deal that he was high enough in a tree. Three of them stopped, sensing the magick on the wind but then thankfully moving on. However, it hadn't been good enough. Xander thanked the powers that only he had heard what happened next. Willow and the children and Tara defending a small blond girl from one of Willow's attacks. Their bond shattered and the magick gone from both. Tara was destroyed by the small mob. And then the gorgon had moved through the clouds, inserting herself in the center of Willow's rage and tapping into far darker magick than anyone knew Willow possessed.

There had been a scream that sent dark red fire through the air in shock waves. Jonathan had been pushed against the wall to the point where he had gone unconscious. Xander was sent flying from the tree through the middle section of a large stained-glass St. Michael just in time to see Charlie lose his concentration and get staked by Dane.

"No!" Xander had snarled. He had lunged for Dane, using all of his fury and speed to launch farther and faster across the fissures and now broken pews from the orange shock wave. The sizzling pain of the large cross against his hands was worth slashing Dane's head off with broken remnants of the pew and then beating his body.

And then she had come, infused with the anger of Gorgon and still wearing a now-dried tee shirt with Tara's blood submerged but no longer dripping. He had wanted to run to the Willow part of the body, but scary veiny black haired Gorgessa was not particularly inviting. It was pretty clear from her shrieking rage that the blood she sought was not of any particular category.

Jonathan had woken in enough time to bind possessed Willow, Buffy came flying through and got the preacher out before the binding spell broke and Xander wasn't sure what had happened after that. He had gone into a blacked-out rage and awoke a few hours later locked in a confession booth with an exhausted Jonathan and a bored Spike playing with himself.

"What the hell happened?" Xander thought that had seemed the most pertinent question.

It was stupid for the preacher to have come back. There would be no comfort or security at this place. The hellmouth had broken it. It had taken all of Jonathan's skill and then some to exercise Gorgessa, mad kudos given to Willow's ability to survive, even if no one was making it quite clear on how or why Gorgessa had left. Running theories on either side of field both cited Anyaka, but neither was exceedingly clear on the playback.

Xander came out of his daydream recounting the events of the past evening's imbroglio to find that Jonathan was slamming the man's head against a pew hard enough that bits of skull were sure to come flying out soon.

Spike reached for his arm as Xander started to walk forward and hold Jonathan back. He whispered to Xander. "Let the mage express his rage. If he doesn't, he'll never know enough to stop."

Xander could hear the righteous anger in Jonathan's voice, each syllable and word punctuated by a deadly slam. "You don't use children!"

Xander wrenched his arm away from Spike after the enraged babbling session had started pouring from Jonathan's mind. "Enough is enough, Spike. We have to tend to the wounded."

It had taken both of them to pull Jonathan off of the corpse of the preacher as he continued slamming the skull into the pew. It was a morbid, yet almost fitting tribute to Tara that she had inspired such a sense of right in Jonathan. At least, Xander assumed that it hadn't been his working.

A piece of glass from the topmost encircled stain was the last to fall. The boys ran and jumped away as it cracked without shattering across the stairs. Looking back, Spike noticed that one of Gabriel's eyes was more than just a different color than the other and more prominent than the stained-glass trumpet that he billowed. Thinking back to what he had seen in Xander's eye socket, he held the small orange orb up to the moonlight.

Xander joined him, flipping up his eye patch to show Spike the indigo gem in his socket. Spike registered the two with fascination before speaking. "Bloody significant, I'd say."


	26. Chapter 26

Xander was ignoring Buffy as she paced. He didn't glance in Jonathan's direction once as he sat on one of the arm chairs. Dawn leaned against Spike, who stood by the doorway watching helplessly as Buffy paced, the orange gem still rolling around in his fingers. Anya and Giles moved about what was once Joyce's kitchen in a wordless shuffle, trying desperately to remember exactly where all the ingredients were for tea. And Willow just sat there as Xander stared at her on the same couch.

She was silent and no one was able to discern whether sorrow or rage were to accompany the silence. Xander and Buffy both caught each other's glances just once and could tell they were thinking the same thing. They were thinking about what was referred to as the "Million chip" incident with D'Hoffryn what seemed like a million years ago. Then she had felt as thought half of her were torn away. How would Willow react now to Tara?

In some ways, Xander felt it was incredibly selfish. How were any of them supposed to grieve for Tara when Willow was hogging all the tension in the room? Granted, Xander knew deep down that he couldn't shed another tear simply because if he started then there would be a good chance that it would never end for him. For Dawn it must have been the worst. She was as young as Xander had been when he had been forced to stake Jesse for his own survival eons ago.

But where did they go from here so broken? Wouldn't it be true enough that the malevolent forces could indeed destroy Buffy if through her friends? She had tried fervently, desperately to destroy their bonds once when she had come back from Los Angeles after seeing her father. They hadn't left her then. But Xander wondered if they hadn't just been fooling themselves that time.

Giles was in the kitchen with Anya. She was focused on her reflection in the kettle, willing the tears to stay within the eye sockets. She was infuriated, scared, and could feel every inch of Willow's sorrow piercing the walls of the city itself. It was too much for one person to bear. Even Xander would never be able to help her or to understand fully.

Giles himself was pretending to search through a junk drawer for a tea strainer. He knew very well where the tea strainer was, but he was looking instead at the plane ticket he'd foolishly abandoned after the wedding for Xander and Anya had gone awry. Now he wondered if he'd ever be able to leave. Giles came rushing out of the kitchen when Spike's voice growled against the silence. He never had been able to bear a silence.

"I can't stand sitting here. Let's go out and fight!"

Xander continued to look at Willow, trying for deep subconscious contact by her side. "Dane is dead, Spike. Who would you suggest we go after?"

Dawn pouted, looking at the floor. "I can't believe we trusted him. We let him in, gave him access to everything."

Giles wiped his glasses from the entrance to the hall as he spoke. "We couldn't have known that this was his plan all along."

Buffy spoke next, anger punctuating her words. "What? To kill Tara? To dismantle the team? No, Giles, there was something far more malevolent at work here."

Dawn was crying now, becoming almost hysterical. She placed too much blame on herself, unable to see any other outcome than Tara's death from the events. "Why can't you except that maybe his goal was nothing more than to destroy us?"

"Dawn, you're not thinking clearly." Anya tried to diffuse the situation.

"Oh, I am so thinking clearly. We wanted this so badly, wanted to fix everything that was wrong and look what happened! My God..."

Dawn buried herself deep into Spike, who tried to comfort her softly. Anya continued to try rationality to mask her own sorrow. "Perhaps then this could be for the best."

Giles turned. "How so exactly could the death of an innocent girl be a herald for good tidings?"

"Well," Anya continued on despite the death glares flowing her direction, "perhaps this is a good perspective for giving us vigilance against the next challenge."

Buffy ceased pacing. "The next challenge? Tara wasn't just some mediocre witch attached to Willow's hip. She was a center for the group, caring for us each individually. We can't be as strong without our strongest allies."

Jonathan spoke softly. "Perhaps Anya has a point. We've all been blind in our own way."

"Thank you, novice mage. And who are you again?"

Xander spoke next. "He's my pupil, Anya. I think partially you're both right, but this won't do any good until we hear from Willow. Will, baby, you can't be silent forever."

Spike was pretty sure he heard Willow mumble a _can so_ before Buffy piped in, enraged at an unbelievable rate, most likely feeding from Dawn's continued hysteria. "She's in pain. Don't you remember the last time this happened? Oz just up and left and Spike and I became betrothed!"

Giles stepped in, eager to show Willow the solace and solidarity that he should have before. "That was years in the past, Buffy. Must you return demons to the surface?"

Buffy turned on her Watcher and father figure. "Yes, let's forget everything that happened so that Willow can go ape shit on us again! She was taken over by the spirit of a Gorgon, Giles! Anyone can ask Xander about what spirits can do to you."

"You can ask anyone. I don't have any hyena or soldier instincts left, Buffy."

Anya stepped in front of Giles. "That's a lie. Possession isn't a precursor to amnesia. There's nothing in any text that says you won't remember. Unless you're a werewolf, that is."

Xander's face demonized for just a flash of an instant. "Probably not the best time to bring that up!"

"I'm just trying to help instead of sitting here and doing nothing!"

Buffy's voice joined Anya. "So what else have you been lying about all this time, Xander?"

Xander blinked. "Why are we turning all this on me?"

Giles continued to wipe his glasses. "Actually, I'm also quite curious to know who seduced you into becoming a vampire, seeing as how you were so ardently against them in former days."

Xander changed, incredibly enraged. He stood, one hand firmly gripping Willow's shoulder. He glanced at her during pauses and then back to Buffy, who he felt was leading this inquisition. "I did what I thought was the best to protect the group at the time, to protect you. You and your idealism about a perfect girl life when you knew damn well you couldn't have it. Everything I did was in the best interest of the Scoobies and protecting the innocent on the Hellmouth! I've never been dishonest enough to ruin your life, Buffy, so don't you dare stand here and accuse me of anything!"

Willow shrugged his hand away as she spoke. "Liar."

Xander turned, backing away from Willow and her quiet rage. Anya disappeared again into the kitchen and water could be heard running, most likely in a vain attempt to quell her tears. "What?"

"You didn't think we couldn't figure it out or do any research at all?"

Spike raised his hand to try and stop her before she began. "Willow, don't do this."

"No." Willow shivered deep with either pain or disgust. Either way, these developments weren't in his favor. "I always wondered what you had against him."

"Who?"

"Then I realized when I met Tara that I understood exactly where that misplaced hatred was from. You were hiding your shame and desire with a biting tongue. And then you go running to him when things go wrong and I'm just so sick of you trying to control everything when you can't even admit you wanted him to sire you all along! It's revolting!"

Spike tried again in vain but Willow glared at him before he could even speak. "And you two men defending him!"

"I don't see..."

Willow turned from Spike to Giles. "Stop defending him just so you can keep the peace! It's time for the lies to stop."

Xander shook his head and Jonathan turned very pale, his eyes shifting toward the door. Xander began to back away as though he were going to jump out of a window any second. "Willow, I know you're hurting but think about this before you do it."

Willow narrowed her eyes. "Why? You didn't. Does he even know what you did?"

Xander tried defending himself. "Even if it made him angry, I'm sure he would understand eventually."

Willow smiled in a very dangerous way. "But it would hurt you both, wouldn't it, to know the truth?"

Buffy grabbed on Willow's shoulder and pulled her back towards where the Slayer was standing. "Willow, what do you know?"

"Exactly what Xander should have told you when you went to get revenge on Angelus for Kendra."

Xander howled. "What did you want me to do? You were blind to him!"

Hot tears rolled down Buffy's face. "All these years....how many other lies, Xander?"

Giles stammered a bit. "This isn't solving anything."

Buffy countered while advancing on Xander. "No, but I'm beginning to see a lot more clearly. You bastard. You let Angel sire you."

Xander put up his hands in meek defense. "There were circumstances. You don't understand Buffy."

Buffy exhaled. "I'd tell you to get out, but I'd rather do this first."

With that, her fist connected with Xander's jaw. Her strength and rage sent him flying through the window and into something strong. It was dark and Xander was woozy from the punch. All he could see was the harsh house lights before him. Blinking, Xander looked up at her face.

Faith smirked. "She can still be kind of bitch when she doesn't hear what she wants, can't she?"


	27. Chapter 27

"Great. Now I've got to deal with you too?" Buffy looked up to the sky from the porch. "If this is a test of some sort, you should know that I'm not very good at them academically!"

"Hey B, still as melodramatic as always?"

Buffy folded her arms defiantly. "Faith, still as evil as always?"

Faith shook her head, her raven curls shaking a bit in the non-existent wind. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

Buffy emphasized her point. "You tried to kill me. More than once."

Faith shrugged as Xander stood by her side of his own volition. Jonathan could be seen peering through the window, looking for all intensive purposes like he was the main course in a cannibal stew. "And I went to jail to try and right my wrongs, remember?"

"Yeah, and what...you broke out? Come to exact revenge too? Cause let me tell you, Faith, I'm not quite so abject about killing you this time."

"She didn't break out of prison. They sent her to me for rehabilitation." The voice came from behind a nearby tree and sent two sets of knees outside the house weak for different reasons.

Buffy and Xander turned toward the voice. "Angel?"

He rolled away from behind the tree. "I got word from the Powers that you needed help and this would be the last time for Sunnydale. I figured it would be appropriate for me to be here."

Buffy could barely breathe as he stepped closer to the house. He looked more mature somehow, as though he had changed but was still the same Angel altogether. "The last time?"

Faith's eyes were brimming with joy. "I'm pretty sure she didn't expect that."

Xander couldn't believe his voice was stable at all. "Sire."

It was a statement, a fact. It had been a long time since they'd even been within the same city limits. Xander felt his limbs go slack for just a moment, but he continued to stand without shaking. He knew it wasn't appropriate, but Angel was right there. The pain from Buffy's punch was even completely dissipated because of him.

Angel pointed to the broken window. "Doing some remodeling on the house?"

Buffy nodded to Xander. "I punched your childe."

Angel shrugged. "Spike probably deserved it."

Buffy shook her head. "Not that one."

Angel turned, moving close enough to Xander to whisper. "_Are you okay? I'm taking you back to the Hyperion once this is all over, but it'll be just a little longer._" Xander nodded then Angel made a big show of checking Xander's wounds. "My boy must be getting strong to take it on the chin like that from you. Bet that's something Spikey couldn't even do right now."

"Oi! I'm right here you know, Captain Forehead!"

Angel grinned as only he could. "I know, that's why I said it."

Giles stepped out on the porch, distant and cold disdain clear for the appearance of Angel once again amongst the havoc. "What did the powers say exactly?"

Faith interrupted. "There was something about a knight and the sun and the moon...lots of prophecy bullshit. We all know it by heart."

Angel scratched the back of his head while circling behind Xander, leaving a hand along the small of his back that made Xander's eyes dilate before the crew slowly assembling on the porch. Xander was only begging and hoping he'd be able to ride out the embarrassment. Something in the air had changed with Angel's arrival and he needed to concentrate and identify the change. "It's a little more complicated than that. Perhaps it would be best to do this inside."

Buffy shook her head. "I don't trust any of you enough to let you in. How could you just turn Xander and not say anything? What? I meant so little to you?" The hurt in Buffy's voice was evident.

Angel furrowed his brow, looking at Xander. "It's none of my business what Xander tells you Buffy, but I do have to wonder why he wouldn't say anything."

Xander muttered the word complications and Faith began to laugh, grabbing her sides and leaning into a nearby tree.

Buffy screwed up her face into a scrunch. "Mine sharing the joke?"

"You haven't changed a bit, B. But there are a lot of others who might be interested in setting aside personal vendettas in favor of stopping further apocalypses here in California. Can we put the Xander hate fest on hold for a moment?"

Willow spoke up weakly, her argument itself seeming to deflate. "Tara's dead because of all of his lies."

Angel spoke for Xander with all the sarcasm he could muster, courtesy of the demon inside him with the ever-present demonic microphone. "So, it's been a busy week then?"

Anya spoke from somewhere behind Giles. "We should let them in, hear them out. I just can't have things ending this way."

Buffy turned to Anya. "But you don't live here. That's not your decision to make."

Dawn turned from where she was still being cradled by Spike. "But I do and I can't take waiting for something like this to happen again. There have been too many mistakes, too many deaths on both sides. Let's just bury the hatchet for once and all, Buff. I invite them in."

Buffy muttered to Dawn. "_I hope you know what you're doing_."

Faith remarked to Buffy as she passed, a buffer between Xander and Buffy. "Smart girl you've got there Buffy. I like her."

"Why, thank you?"

Then the silence began. It was a tennis match, a tense invitational. Jonathan was frozen, again in the center chair. Demons and vampires on one side, the remaining Scooby gang minus Dawn on the other. Any fool would have thought they were mismatched, but it wasn't so. Angel being so close to his childes had sent him into protective mode and the only good window for Faith to glance at the outside from was on Xander's side. She had a thing about being holed up indoors. As for Anya, her mind was unconvinced that either choice would have a positive outcome.

"Well, I think we should get this meeting started then. Maybe Angel could tell us what information he has and we could research from there...perhaps head to the Magick Box in pairs?"

Buffy shook her head. "First, I want a guarantee that no one will withhold any pertinent information from this case."

Xander fixed her glare with his own gaze. "She's talking to me."

Willow piped in with a "_yeah_."

Xander bobbed his head up and down. "Fine, you all seem to want the truth so badly, then let's begin with the fact that Angel sired me, but didn't know I'm just as responsible for his time in hell as Buffy."

"That's not completely true. I knew after the fact. When you sire, you receive every memory and most play out like boring daydreams. I'll admit that I hated it for a long time, but you are still one of my clan. I think, given the situation, doing otherwise would have been an erroneous measure. And it's not as though things haven't worked out for the best."

"But they haven't," Buffy seemed adamantly convinced, "we could have found a cure for Alcathla!"

Angel shook his head. "Not without my sacrifice. Xander was right in what he did. That's why I'm glad you didn't keep Eldridge alive for long."

Buffy turned her head in a questioning direction. "Who is Eldridge?"

Giles shook his head, standing next to Anya. "I don't believe accusations will get us anywhere. I think we just need to buckle down and research, but there's not much to research without a share of information. We just have to let go of the past to save the present."

Angel thought for a moment. "Very well. Cordelia sends her greetings by the way."

Willow blinked. "You met Cordy in LA?"

Angel seemed genuinely surprised that they were unaware of Cordy's activities as an ally. "I thought Oz would have told you."

Willow burned a hole in the rug with her eyes. "He left for a shaman shortly after returning from the Gem incident."

Giles walked over to Willow's shoulder, placing a firm hand and squeezing tight. Willow's hand covered his own and she spoke in short spasm breaths. "It's okay, Giles. We can't do more than accept the things we cannot change...apparently."

Xander murmured low enough for only Angel, and Spike, to hear. "That's my girl."

There was another long and tense silence and each extra minute of it was driving Jonathan crazy. I mean, he couldn't have felt less crazy than where he was currently sitting. He couldn't help almost wishing that his shoulders would be shaken roughly and either Warren or his mom would be telling him that it was time to get up. But no one was going to come shake his shoulders now.

"I don't know how you people can do this all the time!" Jonathan piped in, exasperated. He plodded on, even though all eyes in the room seemed to bore down on him. "I mean, you act like all this death and danger that follow you are normal. Maybe you've been living here too long because this is not normal!"

Buffy blinked. "What's your point?"

"Maybe the point is that we're all hung up on the details. We haven't even talked about the prophecy yet. We just sit here, bitching, waiting for the next attack."

Giles spoke up. "I hate to say it, but Faith may have a valid point."

Faith nodded. "Mmm...hmmm. So why doesn't Angel just recite the prophecy he got from Lorne and we'll be getting to the swift ass-kicking of the Hellmouth for all the shit it puts us through."


	28. Chapter 28

"I still expect it to be there sometimes."

Angel nodded in solidarity. He understood far too well what it was like to be human one moment and immortal the next. "You never stop. It's always surprising and that's why this is just as much a curse as anything."

Xander smirked as his fingers continued to grip the sink. He mourned for his own reflection, absent from the basin of water. "An eternity of this. Who says the Powers don't have a sense of humor?"

"The Powers play God, but they aren't him." Angel moved to fill the space behind Xander.

"I wouldn't have picked you for retaining a sense of religion."

Angel shook his head. "Liam's religion lie in the bottom of a foamy mug and Angelus lived his religion through his torture and vices. I'd like to think that I've grown a bit since then."

"Yeah, without me." Xander's voice fell. He couldn't be strong anymore. He had watched his own marbles slip right down through his fingers and into the drain.

"You could have come."

Xander shook his head and whispered, as if it were a secret. "No. There was too much still to be done. And now it looks like...."

Angel grabbed Xander's shoulder lightly and spun his hurting childe around. "Hey. Look at me. You can't just dwell on what you're losing. You're so much stronger than that."

Xander snorted. "If I were stronger, I could have fixed everything."

"I'm not so sure you were ever supposed to, no matter how much you wanted."

Xander wrenched himself from Angel's grip, feeling his ankle hit the side of the tub. "What I wanted? How do you know what I wanted?"

Angel sighed. "I thought we'd already been through this in Africa."

"I don't wanna talk about what we've been through, Angel." Xander pointed to the ground to emphasize his point.

"This is about the prophecy, isn't it?"

"The prophecy is pretty damn clear." Xander stated this with a cold fury.

Angel shook his head, he knew so much and so little. "Prophecies can be changed sometimes."

"Not this one. How could you have lied to me like that? You knew this Hellmouth was my destiny."

Angel responded as softly to Xander's anger as he could. "No. I only know what's real."

Xander flung his hands in the air. "I call bullshit. What's real to me is that my two best friends and the man better to me than my father are researching my very death at the Magick Box this moment."

Angel pointed to the gem in Xander's eye socket. "Are you so sure that it'll be death?"

Xander shrugged. "Maybe it'll be life. I'm dead already."

"Oh, Xander. You're more alive than you know."

Angel's hand slid over Xander's own palm, which was shaking with rage and sadness. He felt so melancholy as his sire, his former lover, and his object of lust pulled him into his center. Angel had always been cool, like a marble column, and even the lowering of Xander's own body temperature couldn't change that feeling. It was a permanent imprint on Xander's mind, like the taste of a smore or the sound of Willow crying over a broken Barbie.

They kissed, or rather Angel bruised Xander's lips. Xander was so empty inside, he wasn't sure if he even could respond. But Angel waited, holding him deeply, covering his body and mantle he bore with a simple move of the shoulder. Xander found himself crying. Well, not crying exactly. But it was clear that he wasn't happy at all. He was trouble, desolate, and alone. Even with his sire in the same room.

"A long time ago, I summoned Sweet to see if Anya and I could make it but even when I had to make the decision, I came to you as a coward." Xander searched Angel's eyes as they broke away.

"But you still came."

"I loved you."

"Past tense?"

Xander shook his head, letting the silence pass between them. Angel held him for a long time. Spike, Jonathan, and Anya were downstairs, but they wouldn't bother them. Faith had gone with Buffy to do Slayer duties and to round up info at the local demon haunts. Willow had gone alone to research. She didn't want help or people. She just wanted to be alone. Xander couldn't feel that way with Angel near, but he knew he would again. The thought killed him a little.

"I want you to take Jonathan and Dawn away from here. The rest of us are cursed, but Jonathan can be taught and Dawn is strong enough. Just take them and go."

Angel furrowed his brow. "You're serious about this. You don't think you're gonna survive this."

Xander began to babble. "And I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that pessimistic attitude guy will never survive this, but that's not it. It was all about what Grandma said once in a lullaby and I was thinking about her while you were here, well, but, not in that way. Cause I'm not sure grandma would have approved or disapproved of you as a vampire or a person. I know that you could fake it...."

Angel knew enough that the taste of his thumb would silence his childe. "You still believe you can't beat what's hanging over your head."

Xander gave a weak attempt at a smile. "I'm only strong for those I love."

Angel whispered. "But what about you?"

"I don't matter in the grand scheme. Not like you or Buffy or even Jonathan. I can drywall into the next century, but I can't always fight-even as an immortal. It's been too much, Angel."

And there it was. Angel saw it in his eyes, everything from Jesse to leaving Anya at the altar to what he had seen in Africa. He had no history or pride, no sense of family or self. Xander saw himself as the blank entity he had been written as. Angel had nowhere to step back as he now understood the sense of destiny he felt.

"Will you do as I ask, Angel?"

"I don't like this."

Xander sighed, then chuckled. "If anyone had told me six years ago I would be in the bathroom of a vampire slayer debating my destiny with my almost 3 century old sire, I would have killed them. But now it seems fitting, somehow, to tell you last how much you've...."

"Shhhh....talking like that doesn't help anyone."

Xander grinned widely, reminding Angel of that first time they had been together so long ago. "Don't get squeamish now, Dead-boy."

Buffy barged in the front door and yelled throughout the house. "We're home with information!"

Giles laid three large, dusty texts on the table and Dawn arranged herself next to Jonathan, who, for all intensive purposes, hadn't moved from his chair in awhile. "Xander, you and Spike may not like what we've found about the gems."

Xander leaned it. "Continue anyways, G-man."

Giles smiled in fond remembrance of the annoying nickname. "Yes, well, the two gems translate in half a of a Celtic text leading to the permanent destruction of the house of evil in the valley of the sun."

"It's all very esoteric." Willow shrugged.

Dawn chipped in. "At least most of the prophecy was still intact."

Xander sat back in his chair. "Yeah. The part we're missing will just be the last minute necessary spell activation of some kind."

Faith nodded. "I called Wesley, he's checking on the rest of it."

Giles nodded, wiping his glasses for effect. "It seems that the two gems are counterbalances of the quaint terms of good and evil. The evil one represents unrestrained passion and was evidenced correct as found on the end of Gabriel's horn at the church."

Buffy spoke in an almost rote. "And yours Xander, represents loyalty. You are pretty much the moon in this equation of celestial prophetiese and you pull the tide with your strength. It's clear that the activation of the pair of gems under the symbol of the evil valley will destroy the Hellmouth for good."

Anya tried not to sound scared of the process of getting there and back. "Well, that's good to know right?"

"Symbol of the evil valley?"

Willow spoke again, opening a page of the text. "It's pretty clear from a previous incarnation of Stonehenge that the pentagram beneath the high school is the symbol in reference. The druids broke the symbol on their island to stop themselves from going down with Atlantis nearly a millennium ago."

Xander turned to Angel. "Get them out of here before we do this."

"Who?" Buffy interjected.

Angel inhaled. "Xander wants me to get Dawn and Jonathan to safety."

"No way! I'm not leaving!" Dawn glared at Xander.

Xander barked. "Listen, all of you! I've tried protecting, conniving, and a multitude of things to keep the evil from this Hellmouth getting lose. Destroying this place might destroy the whole town. Spike and I are already dead and I don't think Buffy has the energy to start over without him. We've been poisoned by the Hellmouth once too many times. I went it to end here, tonight, before the sun rises again."

Willow stood. "And you think it's okay to cast us off just because you believe it's your destiny?"

"I thought you hated me."

"Well, I mean, you'll certainly be baking cookies from here until the end of time for all the lying, mister." Willow's edges softened. "But you have a good heart and you just were doing your best to protect us. I guess I just needed some space to see it. Plus, you owe me a broken Barbie. I'm not going anywhere until I get payment, buster."

Xander smiled in response.

Buffy stood and shrugged. "And it's not like it's a big deal. I die thrice, maybe I get my pick of heavenly dimensions."

"Plus," Faith chimed in, "I always wanted to go down in a blaze of glory. If the family goes, I go to."

Xander looked around the room at the adamant faces, backing his decision to close the Hellmouth for good with their own sacrifice. He licked his lips. "So, what do we know about the activation?"

Jonathan spoke from his chair. "You'll need my blood to get under the pentagram and my power so Willow can conduit a spell that sets up a perimeter."

Xander turned to the body in the chair. "Jonathan, no thing's keeping you here. You'll have a chance to start over."

"No, I won't." Jonathan was standing over the pentagram and Spike was holding out a knife to him. "I have to be the sacrifice, so I need someone to wait with me until Willow's ready with the perimeter."

Dawn spoke softly. "I'll wait with you."

Jonathan grimaced into a smile, just as Xander had winced as he had literally shoved Angel into his car and forced him to leave, determined that someone should survive this last crazy Scooby gang escapade.

Dawn spoke after a moment's silence. "How will you know when she's completed the spell?"

Jonathan's face looked over the pentagram. "I'll fall over and black out. I won't feel any pain when you cut my wrist."

Spike spoke up. "Just make sure to do it length wise so we get enough blood to open the seal, little bit."

Dawn made a face. "Gross."

Buffy shrugged. "Well, you didn't take Angel's offer."

"Still...gross though."

Anya decided to stay with Willow to protect her, if necessary. She had given space to Xander and Willow. Giles was headed toward the pentagram to protect Dawn and the rest would fight under the symbol.

"How are you feeling, brown-eyed girl?"

Willow sighed. "Not with the much good, but I think this will be okay with Tara. Maybe it'll sort of make up for the last six months."

"She's proud of you." The pair of last remaining best friends to not be torn apart by the Hellmouth embraced each other deeply. They smelled nearly the same, of sandalwood and baking chocolate. Willow rested her head against his shoulder.

"I'm glad you're still Xander. Your demon would have never done this."

"He's still there, Will."

She smiled. "Demon or not, Xander Harris, you'll always be the most special man in my life."

Xander tried making a joke which got him cuffed across the head. "And you'll always be my special lady who's for the ladies."

"Go save the world."

"Hey, you're not doing a bucket full of nothing either."

Anya stuttered as he left the office where Willow had taken up residence, trying to find the right words to say to Xander. "I think we never talked."

"You know, I always loved you Anya. You're strong, and brave with lots of truth and attitude."

"And you're a remarkable man, Xander. You put all the men I've ever tortured to more shame than they'll ever know."

Xander didn't expect Anya to reciprocate his kiss, but was gladly cooperative as her hands went across his neck and pulled him in. After a moment, they pulled away.

"Your breath is not more minty since you've died."

Xander began to walk back down the hallway, turning back to talk as Anya walked into the office with Willow, who had begun chanting already. "Love you too, An."

Jonathan was already passed out from the psyche spell that Willow had begun to transfer the borrowed pure magick from the novice mage. His potential was floating through the air, with Dawn leaning down and shouldering his weight so he didn't fall too hard on the ground. Spike cut his wrist and they all watched with morbid fascination as the red outline wound its way through the dark symbol.

A hole with steps made of rock cut down into the earth and the stale stench of morbid lust and wrenching pain filled and seared each lung. One by one, they trudged down into the depths as an army. They were on a very long cliff and the sound of all manner of demon could be heard. Xander and Spike stood beneath the opposite end of the pentagram that had slid away to reveal the opening.

Spike took the initial stab. "Well, what now?"

"Ummm...the prophecy I was born under said that it would happen at the right time."

"You mean you don't know?" Spike stated, a little more than alarmed.

Buffy called from the edge of the cliff. "You'd better think of something quick then."

It was a veritable wall of demons with claws, horns, and various unnatural skin tones. They were angry and snarling, but still no match for the twin slayers.

Faith exclaimed after a kick, "This is what I'm talking about. No better way to go!"

Buffy was caught off-guard and Xander reacted by rushing to her aid just in time to feel the shaft of the wooden spear slice through the absent space where his heart would have been. He retained just enough foresight before he went to dust to look at Buffy and wave goodbye.

The violet gem fell to the ground and broke open, a harsh light searing Buffy's eyes and tossing everyone in the vicinity back. Demons scattered away, but down the cliff. Faith laughed, looking back just once as she dived into the crowd and over the cliff.

Spike was surprised to feel the heat from the orange gem. "Bloody hell, I feel almost human."

But he wasn't burning or evaporating. Buffy struggled over to where he was, her right ankle broken in several areas. She brought Xander's gem with her and wrapped her hands around Spike so that the two gems met. He watched with interest, his eyes flicking from hands to lips to eyes and back again.

Buffy and Spike kissed as the two gems broke each other as perfect counterbalances, creating a rift that shined through different dimensions like a beacon of good and hope. The pentagram and the opening to hell began to shake, but neither Slayer nor vampire noticed as the world around them turned into a dormant crater. The Scoobies finally won and the Hellmouth closed.


End file.
